Headmistress
by Jaiasa
Summary: Because of his past, Draco is passed up for the job as Headmaster and instates his sassy, progressive thinking Yankee granddaughter as heir to his throne. Alas, the old fool really CAN meddle with people's lives...even from the grave. HBP DrHr, BzOc
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This story is post-Hogwarts and HBP. I kind of wanted to do what I wanted with it so I decided to stick with what I wanted and hopefully there won't be any die-hard fans all over my ass on this one.

Summary: Post Hogwarts and HBP. Harry Potter has managed to destroy Voldemort despite his sadness over Dumbledore's death. Since he has disappeared and Hogwarts had been run by the Second-in-Command, McGonagall. Now that she's stepping down and literally naming a non-traditional American as it's heir, would the world so quickly accept this new Headmaster?

Chapter One: Any Chance of A Regime Change?

The white walls of the apartment and the stainless steel appliances gave the feeling that no one who lived there intended to stay very long. In fact, the would be ex-tenant had lived there for several years off-campus, spending her time reading, writing, and marking papers. She had been in America for far too long. A lifetime.

The air in the bathroom was heavy with fog and heat. The silent occupant always enjoyed a hot shower to take her mind off the trying days at Salem's Tertiary School for Witches, teaching girls from eleventh to twelfth grade years. A reddish brown hand swept across the mirror and a young woman stared into the depths of her dark brown eyes, wary of what she saw.

With curly hair that fell to her bronze shoulder and smooth, shimmery skin, she was the daughter of an Englishman and an inner city school teacher from Washington, DC. A quarter European and an outcast to her mother's people. She frowned in the mirror, knowing exactly what the muggle-borns felt and why her grandfather fought so hard for their status in the wizarding world as her people fought for their place in America. Even if they didn't claim her.

She sighed again and wondered what she would do with her unruly mass of hair. It was too curly to be tamed by a comb and air-dried and it was too straight to perm. She'd made that mistake long ago it was a good thing that her hair was so thick or she would've looked diseased.

"I can't believe you did this to me pa-pa." she whispered to herself in a light English accent. She would be making her way to England for the first time since her grandfather's death. He'd dumped his crazy responsibilities into her lap the night he was murdered and she had been training and biding her time, hoping his underlings would forget his will. But to no avail. She'd gotten the call a month ago and now she would have to suck it up and fulfill a dead man's wish. Why he would appoint her, she had no clue. From what she heard, England was in a state of chaos directly after the war and was still holding trials and rebuilding its government to this day.

Naima didn't even know a thing about England except the big clock's name is Ben and their Queen's Elizabeth. Yep. That was the extent of it.

"So, did everyone turn up?" Came Minerva's annoying voice. Draco stared ahead and suppressed a moan. It always put him in the mind of someone trying to drive a banana through his head.

"Yes, Professor McGonagall," Longbotton began, "Everyone except--"

"I'm so sorry we're late," flustered, both Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley breathlessly broke through the door. Minerva seemed unamused.

"While I am confidant of your abilities to teach at this institution, I am afraid to say that I can't find you reliable. I will not tolerate such behavior."

"What behavior? We haven't done anything," Said the gangly red-head.

"As much I'd hate to think of it, let alone speak of such atrocities, I believe the Headmaster is referencing the spontaneous rut the two of you must have had before you realized you were late and dramatically came bursting through the doors."

"How dare you assume"

"Assume? You barely had enough time to button your blouse the correctly." He nodded with a smirk. Granger looked down at her shirt and blushed deeply and folded her robes over her shirt, too embarrassed to correct herself in front of everyone.

"Now that everyone is here, I would like to get started. Mr. Weasley, Ms. Granger, please have a seat so we may continue." The two took their seats opposite Draco, glaring the whole way. It had been five years since they themselves had attended school. Weasley, in a move that would surprise and baffle him for years to come, had decided to go to a Wizarding community school for two years to earn his N.E.W.T.s. Bushy-Haired Bowling Pin Granger studied under Professor Vector a year after the war had ended and took her places only last year as the Arithmancy teacher. Draco, himself, came out of hiding after a last moment change-of-heart just before the final battle between good and evil and decided he didn't want to chance it in Azkaban if he somehow, by the grace of God, were able to survive Voldemort after his failing to kill Dumbledore.

Professor Snape, unfortunately, earned his name back in the eyes of Voldemort after he'd done the deed and worked for some secret organization against the snake up until the final battle, passing off important information on Voldemort's manpower and weaknesses. He retired after the death of the world's would-be dictator and now lives in some remote area in Northern England, knowing that the world would never forgive him for taking the life of the man that worked so hard to deliver them from the evil that threatened the sanctity of the world, regardless if it was on his orders.

When Draco hadn't been the one to kill the old coot, he breathed a small sigh of relief, despite the horridness of it all. Dumbledore was a powerful man. And if it were not his final words to him or the very power his body emanated the moment he set his wand on him, Draco might have been the one to kill him. Thankfully, he was not turned into that monster, and Severus had taken the flak.

Not to say that he was a social miracle.

None of the circles wanted him. Not the high-class, not the low-class, not the royal, nor the peasant. The students who he went to school with were wary of his presence, and the younger school girls were charmed at his 'rebellious' ways. So, despite his efforts in the last battle, everyone seemed to turn their backs on him and scoff. Even the great amount of money he had meant little if people would never resort to its use for fear of being an outcast like him, or worse, accused of supporting a former Death Eater.

There, he'd said it.

He was stupid enough at some point to accept that damnable mark that would scar him for the rest of his life. No one would want him now. The only person he had was his arrogant mother who still muttered incoherent things about the rise of a pure race and strange things about his father who had been locked up in Azkaban for good. He was thankful that he had avoided that but was still depressed that this was what he would have to endure for the rest of his life. Not to mention that he couldn't meet any girls his age without getting the cold shoulder, or go a day without being inappropriately touched or teased by some minor.

"Now," Minerva began, bringing Draco out of his deep thought, "I have brought you all together to tell you some important news. I am retiring." The room was in an uproar, and Draco's calm, yet excited body remained still and silent as everyone screamed about not wanting any other leader or not wanting to see her go and how terrible it was, blah, blah, blah...

"Please be still." she shouted over them. It took a while for the room to quiet down, but it remained tense as people only settled slightly, their bodies still in a position to spring to action at any moment.

"I have decided that I have grown far too old to manage a school and perform my duties as the Transfiguration teacher. I am stretched far too thin and on good conscious I cannot maintain that position. Instead, I have appointed a new leader, one that was intended to take over Hogwarts in the case that...well, that the Headmaster would expire."

"That would be the Deputy Headmaster, Minerva, that would be Draco." Said Know-It-All-Granger. Draco's body froze up. He wasn't even thinking clearly. Of course he would be the next in line. But he was sure that the current Board of Governors wouldn't like that. No. An ex-Death Eater Headmaster would not do at all.

"In this case it would not, dear Hermione." Draco was taken aback. What was this? Was she going to appoint someone like bushy-haired Granger or bumbling-idiot Weasley? Please, dear Merlin, not Longbottom.

"In fact, the former Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore intended for someone else to take over the school in the case of his death. I have only been an acting Headmaster until the party was old enough– and willing enough– to accept the job."

"Old enough?" Draco repeated, incredulous.

"Yes, old enough," came her short reply.

"We're going to have some seventeen-year-old running our school."

"She isn't seventeen, she is twenty-one."

"Twenty-one? That younger than us, Ms. McGonagall!" Longbottom exclaimed.

"I am well aware of that, Mr. Longbottom, but I can assure you, she is highly qualified for the job."

"I mean, has she even had a teaching job yet?"

"Yes, in America for four years."

"She was hired straight out of school?"

"She was quite impressive from what I hear. Not a veteran auror, but I have heard some amazing things about her.

"Why would Dumbledore recommend some random chit to run his school?" Draco began. "Why not Potter?"

"He had a feeling that Potter would not appreciate to be in the limelight post-war. He figured he would want a peaceful life after we've taxed him so." Potter took the liberty of doing that without having to be told. The world hadn't heard of him since the last battle. Some believe him dead, others who haven't met him believe him to be some mythological character the ministry created to facilitate patriotism. But Draco knew better. He was pulling a Snape.

"He has appointed someone that was in his direct bloodline. A young American witch by the name of Naima Dumbledore."

"Naima? Isn't that Arabic? Dumbledore has an Arab..."

"Grand-daughter. And she isn't Arab." McGonagall sighed.

"That's a weird name for an Englishwoman." McGonagall sighed. "We are besides the point here. I am certain of her capability and her reign here as the next Headmaster will mark the beginning of a period of rest and stability."

Draco frowned and muttered, "You sound like the PRs during the rise of the Third Reich."

The ride from Hogsmead to Hogwarts was quick and painless. As the sight of the castle swam into view, Naima found herself in awe. As much as she'd heard of this place, it still didn't prepare her for seeing it.

The academies in Salem were huge college campus' and were located in the seeing eye s of the muggles. It was so unnecessary to cover the schools in the historically magical town, and the schools were located in painfully obvious locations and were even recognized as institutions by the local government. Of course, the names of the courses were coded, and the students had to keep up with their muggle class studies such as math and science and English as well as fulfilling many other classes that prepared them for the SATs. But of course, the rest were coded and the students enjoyed their magical sides soon after. This is why it was so necessary to send them to school for the full fourteen years of school that the everyday muggles endured.

Their facilities were state-of-the-art, but like her company apartment, it lacked personality. And as she adjusted her pleated skirt and carefully stepped out of the invisibly drawn carriage in her Steve Madden pumps, she had to remind herself that she was not in a fairytale and that her grandfather really once ruled the halls of this magnificent creature.

As her eyes cut to the great doors in the front of the castle, she checked her hair to be sure it stayed in it's perfect waves and checked in a compact mirror to see if her makeup stayed. Se smiled at her reflection. _I hope I impress them. I can't imagine how many people I've pissed off already and I haven't even set foot inside the castle yet._

"Ms. Dumbledore! So nice to see you!" Naima smiled as she was greeted by a stately older witch in black robes. She forgot how formal this school was. She had to change the rules a bit. There's no way she's running around in those ugly, itchy...

"So pleased to meet you!" A young woman, perhaps a bit older than she, ran out and extended her hand. Naima was relieved when she saw her in dark green robes. _A little too conservative still, but at least I know I've got options._

She shook her hand and looked behind him to see that the rest of the staff had come out to greet her from the current Headmistress to the tiniest house elf. She attempted to shake everyone's hand and assured them that she was happy to make their acquaintance.

_Whoa,_ was Draco's first reaction, _The old coot was dipping into chocolate._ He looked her down and decided the move didn't heed a bad result. She was cute, for an American. When she had shook his hand, he was alarmed that she did so with a strength that spoke of sincerity and wisdom. _I guess with a wizard like Dumbledore, it's a rule for power and wisdom to be inherited._

But he still wasn't convinced. This girl pushed him out of his would-be prominent position as the Headmaster. And although his more intelligent side argued that he would never last because of an overwhelming amount of complaints the school would receive, he was resigned to believe her to have conspired with McGonagall to snatch his authority away.

"This is the Great Hall where we dine. Breakfast is served from six am until morning classes begin. Lunch is from eleven to one and dinner is from seven to nine." The woman named Minerva McGonagall closed the great doors and swept down the hallway. "I will now show you your office and your rooms."

After a three hour tour and the retrieval of a magical map of the compound. Naima was tired, hungry, and overwhelmed. The place was larger than looked on the outside– not to mention the strange rooms that appeared out of nowhere and moving staircases. She'd seen moving portraits but Salem didn't have as many.

When McGonagall finally showed her the office, she was relieved to finally take a seat, and out of respect, sat in front of the desk. McGonagall smiled. "You don't have to be polite. You are the new Headmaster. Please, take your seat."

"I don't think I'd be comfortable filling my grandfather's seat just yet." The thunderous voice frightened her so much that a strange, foreign noise escaped her throat and she whipped around at the sight of it.

"And just why not?" It was the portrait of her grandfather, smiling that knowing smile of his. And Naima couldn't help but think that the painter really got the twinkling eye thing down.

Jaiasa here! I hope you all liked my new story, and not to worry! I finally bought a new laptop since my old one's keyboard was a little shoddy (about one year too late). I welcome all forms of criticism! I'm no wuss! Please do your worse (or your best-- whichever suits you) and don't hesitate to R&R.

Love Ya!


	2. Back From The Grave

Chapter Two: Back From the Grave

"Pa-pa!" Naima smiled broadly. It had taken her a long time to get over his death, but the sight of his brilliant face made her aware of her loss and excited that he left an imprint of his wisdom on such an undeserving canvas. _They painted his hat too straight. Pa-pa always liked it slightly off center,_ she couldn't help herself thinking. He was in his favorite blue robes with stars and crescent moons and his eyes shone as brightly as they did when he was living.

"It's so nice to see you again, Pa-pa!" She was suddenly saddened when she realized she couldn't hug him.

"My, you've grown! What have they been feeding you in America?" he laughed jovially and popped a lemon candy in his mouth.

"Nothing as good as the cooking here, Pa-pa! I had no idea they painted a portrait of you! I was so sad that we'd lose you completely!" The former Headmaster seemed uncomfortable.

"You must remember, Ms. Dumbledore. Albus is no longer alive, despite what you see." Naima's smile fell.

"I know, but he's still left a little imprint of his soul for me, and that I'm happy for."

"You have finally taken the job, my girl. I'm so glad to see it."

"Yea, but I'm gonna have to change a few things. Your customs here are a little too stuffy. I bet you guys still make your kids wear black robes, don't you? Probably wool, too, right?"

"Now don't go changing too many rules, just yet! You still have to impress the governors."

"Oh, stuff the governors. We've got to let the kids be kids. I mean, black robes, geez, who thinks of these things?"

"It's a Hogwarts' tradition, honored throughout the history of its existence."

"No child wants to wear black...it's so morbid. And since the war ended several years ago, it's time we stop mourning, too. Forward is the way to go. Everyone's still so stuck in the past and now we have to help people move forward." Naima stopped speaking when she saw the look on Minerva's face. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend."

"You haven't, but I must warn you against such thought. This country isn't very open to revolutionary ideas, especially since Voldemort. They're busy trying to get things the way they were before his rise."

"Why would you want things to be the way they were before his rise? People harbored hatred for an innocent group of people and were vulnerable to allow a disgusting, pathetic excuse for a human ascend to power because they thought they'd get power themselves. Or maybe they were scared, whatever. We don't need to go back. We need to remember those that died in that war and we need to move forward.

"I'd hate to compare this to American history, but it reminds me much of the Civil War. The country was divided: allow the South to secede and keep slaves or band together and unite every free-thinking citizen of the North. There was a period of unrest after the War ended in the North's favor and the freedom of slaves was a side consolation. There were hard feelings harbored after their freedom and they endured many hardships after their release. Once they forced the government to accept them and make rules to protect them, those of European descent slowly accepted them and those who still harbored ill will were silent in fear of the government's retaliation.

"Your government has already set up rules of protection for muggle-borns and soon those who hated them will slowly accept them and those who still hate them will become silent. Mudblood--" Minerva gasped, "will become a word spoken only in the presence of close friends in the confines of their personal houses. It's already changing, and soon, the muggle-borns will no longer be push-overs but will soon ascend to higher positions in government. Of course, the pure-bloods will get the better positions and some niches will be unavailable to most of them, but in the public's eyes, anyone accused of being a muggle-hater will be spat upon, and unlike Lucius Malfoy during his reign as Governor, forced to answer to the public." When Naima finished, Albus stroked his beard.

"I expect no less from my granddaughter. Are you so sure that everyone will be so welcoming?"

"With the threat of Azkaban and being thrown out of every social circle, I'd say yes. It doesn't matter how resolved a man is. He'll pretend if it means power and riches."

"I wonder, what are your thoughts on former Death Eaters?"

"I harbor no love for them, nor envy. They will be spat upon even after they die, no matter if they converted post-war."

"What if they converted before the end of the war?" Naima thought for a moment.

"Perhaps," she said slowly. "But unlikely. Unless someone well-trusted comes forward and speaks on his or her behalf, chances are bleak that he'll be hired as anything other than a janitor." Albus chuckled.

"What if I told you such a person worked in the castle."

"I'd tell you I'm upset that you'd stick me with such a bigot." Naima said, her temper rising quickly.

"Trust me, Naima, they're well-suited for the job."

"Not if their job includes teaching muggle-born minors. Are you mad?"

"What if I told you the person I speak of was converted before the end of the war?"

"I'd ask you how you'd so quickly forgive the atrocities he must have committed before-hand. Who is this person?"

"He was the son of a well-known Death Eater, and a key player in the last battle."

"A name, Grandfather, a name." Naima was growing impatient. She would never second guess his choices, but this hit too close to home. Her mother was a muggle-born.

"Draco Malfoy." Naima closed her eyes. She knew the name and remembered the face of the prestigious man that was sentenced to Azkaban three years before the end of the war.

"Is he truly reliable, Grandfather?"

"Yes, and I understand that my asking you to allow him to stay on at Hogwarts is a bit of an inconvenience, but do understand that I have my reasons."

"Still meddling even from the grave, old man?" Naima turned to find one of the young men from before stepping into the office. He hadn't knocked, and surely he should have known to extend the courtesy.

"Speak of the devil." Naima widened her eyes and stared accusingly at he portrait before turning back to the teacher.

"Mr. Malfoy, what is it that you do here?"

"Potions," he replied and then took a seat without being invited. He folded his leg across his lap and pulled up his tie so it wouldn't get wrinkled. "I also happen to be the Deputy Headmaster." Naima Dumbledore blinked and then crossed her desk to take a seat at her chair and leaned back, finding it comfortable.

"Deputy Headmaster? My, what a most prestigious position to be awarded. I hope you don't harbor any ill feelings because you were bypassed by a young American girl, now do you?"

"Jealous of a Yankee? Me?" Naima smirked and leaned forward. "Good. We couldn't have you lusting after a position that's presently unfit for you."

"Are you undermining my abilities, Naima?"

"You will call me Ms. Dumbledore or even Dumbledore until I give you permission to use my first name. Call it a condition of your employment here as the _Deputy_ Headmaster."

"Well then, Dumbledore, you must understand that England just might not be ready for a foreigner to run a nationally recognized institution. They might even consider an ex-Death Eater over an American."

"I highly doubt that. Not only with your history and my heritage but also my credentials. You'll find it hard to," Naima's eyes cut to his crotch area for a moment, "measure up." She looked back up and smiled when she saw him redden.

"I can assure you, despite my history, you'll find me bigger than you could ever be, sweetheart."

"While it's so interesting for the two of you to insult each other with your innuendo, but I need to make sure the letters go out to the students tonight." Minerva, seemingly amused, quietly stepped from the room.

"Are you accusing me of penis-envy?" Naima couldn't help but crack a smile. She wouldn't expect a wizard to know much about Freud, but he was a wizard, eve if he was a chauvinistic pig. When he didn't answer, she continued.

"My Grandfather might think you're honky-dory, but I'm a little harder to impress. Don't make him regret his decision." Draco smirked his trademark smirk when he realized her tight black tank top and cardigan were giving him the most glorious view of her knockers.

"So am I, _Dumbledore_. Just stay out of my way and I'll stay out of yours."

"I'm afraid it doesn't work that way when I'm your boss. If I have any inclination that you've returned to your old ways, I'll do what I must, no matter how good you are at potions."

"Even if I'm a Potions master?"

"I'm sure I could find someone better. Your status here is a privilege, not an obligation for us. I understand we might have some...differences...but I won't tolerate you torturing any of the younger students."

"You're a bit pretentious."

"And you're a little untrustworthy at the moment. Why don't you assume that I'm not playing around and I'll trust that you'll not give me a reason to second guess my decision to keep you.

"Bitch," Draco struck the wall as he made his way into his bedroom. If she had any idea who he was and how many people he could buy to have her sacked–

Draco had to suck in a deep breath. He didn't have that kind of authority anymore. It would take extra big bucks to convince anyone to do anything for him, now that his father and he were discovered. Although he'd have to resolve to work for the little tramp didn't mean he had to succumb quietly. He'd give her hell if he had to, he'd show her that he was none too pleased about this move. Draco ran a hand through his hair again and stepped away from the main entrance and looked around his living space.

There was an empty fireplace sat across from the canopied bed, his armoires neatly line up across the wall and the green curtains shielding the magical window that simulated the landscape outside. He sat down on the four-poster bed. It was hard enough having to deal with the guilt, now he had to a new, fast-talking Yankee boss from America who looks down her nose at them all.

He would have to find a way to get her sacked. She would have to get sacked and McGonagall reinstated as Headmistress. Although Draco would love nothing more than for it to be him up there in Dumbledore's chair–

He inwardly groaned.

She even shared the same name as that annoying old fart and would probably be twice as annoying. This was going to be a long year, and he knew it. And since he worked so well with a time constraint he'd aim to get her crossed off before the end of fall term.

When Naima finally made it to her new room (conveniently adjacent to her new office) that night, she was busy changing the decor from conservative red and golds to her favorite hues of teal and coral. The castle was much too dismal for her tastes, and she didn't want to even think about what the rest of the castle looked like. It's a wonder why these kids haven't snapped out of their constant depression since the end of the war. Their surroundings don't help much. Not to mention the overcast skies that seemed almost endless.

Yes, this place was much different from her home in America, but there was something to it that she liked. Maybe it was something about the air that seemed so much cleaner here. Or perhaps it was the constant buzz of magical energy that flowed through her body, energizing her and forcing her to move forward.

When she received word of her Pa-pa's death five years ago, she fell into a horrible depression. She emptied out her apartment– from curtains to candies– finding that everything reminded her of her beneficiary and loving guardian. Coming here had given her a different feeling, however. Just seeing the place that he loved so much and seeing a little piece of him left in the office gave her so much...energy.

No wonder he loved this place. Now all she had to do was make it cheerier.

The next two weeks of her stay comprised of getting the 'run down' from Minerva and taking more tours of the Astronomy Tower, Dungeons, and library. She had to learn the lay of the land like the back of her hand.

_Hey, that rhymed._ She merrily thought to herself as Minerva droned on and on about the history of the place and the magical significance of the site, yadda yadda... boy, did she know how to blow wind. But Naima had to learn to pay attention to everything she was saying no matter if Minerva's voice mysteriously faded in and out with a constant buzzing noise that strangely reminded her of the ant races she got whenever her cable was unhooked. The woman should really get that checked.

"And in the Great Hall, we hold feasts and dances." Naima stood at the door, her hands on her hips. In Salem, the cafeteria and her company-owned apartment lacked any type of decoration and to spruce it up without any kind of written consent would be punished with a severe fine. Even Halloween Dances had to have approved decorations and confetti and stickers were strictly prohibited. Now that this was her school, she could do whatever she wanted with it...right?

"Minerva, I have a question."

"What's that, dear, we really must take a tour of the baths." Naima winced. _Ooh, and I'm sooo looking forward to that one._

"I was wondering, is there anything in the contract with the designers stating that decorations must be pre-approved." Minerva blinked.

"I... beg your pardon" She stared at her blankly.

"I don't have to jump through any hoops to decorate the place or anything? You know, For like dances and stuff?" When understanding registered on her face, Minerva shook her head.

"However, there are several staff members that abhor the morning after cleanup." She turned and led Naima out of the hall, leaving the young Headmistress smiling like a Cheshire cat.

One her way back from the tours she literally bumped into Professor Granger. "Oh! I'm so sorry!" the woman bent over to pick up the many tomes she'd dropped. Naima bent down to help.

"Oh, no... sometimes I get lost in the clouds, myself." Naima smiled apologetically and handed Professor Granger the last book as they stood.

"Oh, no, you have no idea how clumsy I am."

"–But you really don't know my history."

"–Yes but I'm probably the clumsiest alive."

"–Well, I– listen to us arguing on who's got a worse grip on the simple thing called gravity. We haven't been informally introduced. I'm Naima."

"Yes, the youngest witch to ever don the title of Headmistress here at Hogwarts."

"Really, now?" Naima smiled.

"I read it in the new edition of _Hogwarts, a History_."

"So, you're the History teacher?"

"Oh, dear goodness, no. I'm the Arithmancy teacher. You can call me Hermione," she stuck her hand out for a shake.

"Hermione Granger, I believe I've read about you in the Magical Times. You and your cohorts were responsible for the death of Lord Voldemort, correct?" Hermione blushed and nodded. They began to walk down the hall, side by side.

"I must say, it's an honor to have the chance to work with a hero. I'm sure not many can say the same." When Hermione didn't reply, Naima turned to the girl's heavy load. "So, what's on the reading list?"

"Oh, just a bit of last minute research for a couple of lessons. I like to have everything planned up to the end of the term. I'm just mostly taking care of substitute teacher plans and readjusted schedules in case of..."

"Whoa, whoa! You do all that before for how long? It lasts 'til the end of term?" Naima giggled, "Do you ever breathe?"

"I like to have everything done so I can have free time whenever I'm not grading." Naima smiled and shrugged.

"I usually planned various lessons but let the kids pick one off a list every day. I don't know... it kept their interest."

"That's an interesting approach." Hermione seemed to consider this for a moment until they reached a junction in the corridors.

"Well, this is my turnoff." Naima shrugged. "It was nice speaking with you, I'd love to get the chance to chat again sometime soon." Hermione went around the corner and Naima watched her go. As she turned back to find Professor Malfoy staring her down, Naima shifted her weight and crossed her arms.

"Good evening, Mr. Malfoy." But he didn't respond. She shrugged and walked past him, wondering what in the world that was all about. Surely the man had better things to do than stare her down. Maybe he should be planning substitute teacher's guides and schedule adjustments and such, certainly not getting an eyeful.

"Alright, now. I've called this meeting to get to speak with the faculty." They were in the faculty lounge, a dark, dank place that smelled like mildew and dried wood. Everyone was present, and she was happy to see that no one was taking her lightly. "I must admit, this is my first time doing anything like this and I would be happy if everyone would let me know when I'm being a dunderhead." She smiled. It quickly faded when she saw their blank stares. She nervously popped a Lemon Head candy into her mouth.

"Right then." She cleared her throat and then picked up a piece of parchment. "I made a little list of things I wanted to run through today, and most of them concern the way the castle's run."

"Then why didn't you set up a private meeting with Filch?" Professor Malfoy started. "Surely the teachers..."

"–Have everything to do with what I'm on about." Naima nodded. "The first item on the list is this Qua ditch... umm..."

"Quidditch?" Draco looked flabbergasted.

"Yes, that. What is this? Some sort of sport?"

"Only the most popular wizarding sport since chess!" Professor Flitwick nearly flew out of his chair.

"I guess I'll run the risk of sounding silly. What's it about?"

"Well there are three hoops, a keeper, a seeker..."

"–Oh!" Naima exclaimed. "I know what you're talking about! We call it Bludgeon!"

"Americans _always_ have to be so different..." Minerva muttered.

"Okay, okay. So there are house teams, I gather. Alright, now I understand. I suppose everything on that end is run by the students. And I've read Mr. Weasley referees?" Madame Hooch nodded.

"And Madame Pomfrey cares for the students in the unfortunate event that someone gets too careless." The woman smiled and nodded.

"Okay. Next is...the dances. Who plans them? Who's charged with chaperoning?"

"Everyone is. All faculty have been required to attend." Professor Weasley said. "The prefects tend to plan everything."

"Okay. Next... security."

"The teachers have schedules that they alternate and the prefects also patrol until one hour after midnight."

"Interesting. Head Boy and Girl... who are they?"

"Mayassa Najjar and Kyle Lancor." Her questions about the general run of the school went on for some time and it wasn't until an hour later that she was nearly finished.

"Okay. The last order of business," she smiled." I need everyone to make an appointment with me tonight to come in by the end of the week."

"And this is necessary for?" That Malfoy boy was getting on her last nerves. If he didn't stop second-guessing her, she would snap.

"I would like to know a little about each and every one of you since we're going to be working so close together for a very long time." She magicked the schedule to stick to the wall near the door.

"I'm so happy to have gotten the chance to speak more with you all. I only wish I could have done it sooner. Please, sign your name in a slot next to a time and I will see you then!" Everyone was dragging their feet as they left. Sure, she was taking more time away from their precious vacation. But the students were arriving in one and a half weeks and she wanted to be prepared.

Thursday was the first day of appointments. Surprisingly, there weren't any open slots at the top of the paper. She had a sinking suspicion that they had wanted to get it over with quickly.

"Good morning, Professor Flitwick." They shook hands as he stepped into her office and jumped up to sit in the chair. Naima took a seat behind the desk.

"Goober?" She offered one of her precious candies. The professor gave her a strange smile but declined.

"How has your day been so far?"

"Alright." He squeaked.

"Well then I suppose it's time we got down to business." She looked at her list of things to go over.

"How long have you been teaching here?"

"For about thirty or so years." _You should have my job._ Naima wrote the information down.

"How long have you been in the teaching business?"

"I have always taught at Hogwarts. I wouldn't have it any way else."

"What school did you attend?"

"Hogwarts."

"What class do you teach?"

"Charms, but..." he leaned in conspiratorially, "I have always fancied Madame Pomfrey's position!" Naima chuckled slightly, not sure if she quite got the joke.

"I hear you're the one responsible for the majority of the decorations at Halloween and Christmas."

"I am."

"Do you feel that any parts of the castle should be renovated?"

"Renovated?" He repeated. "Well, some parts of the building are a bit run down, and I suppose it wouldn't hurt to add something to the environment to cheer it up a bit."

"How do you feel about the clothing restraints we set on the children? Do you think that perhaps black is a bit too morbid?"

"Too morbid? It a wizarding tradition to wear black!"

"But if you look at many other schools throughout Europe and Asia, the children wear various colors."

"They do... but black has always been the school's color."

"You don't think that maybe it's a little depressing for a country that's still recovering from a war that took such a toll on it's citizens?" Professor Flitwick looked as though he didn't know what to say.

"Well, I suppose."

"It's alright if you disagree. Black robes is a Hogwarts' tradition, after all, and I want to hear everyone's heartfelt reply."

"To be honest, the uniformity helps to keep the kids from fighting over simple things that they shouldn't be concerned with."

"I don't plan to get rid of the uniforms, rest assured Professor. I was just curious if the staff wouldn't mind seeing it change a little."

"I see."

"My last question. Are there any suggestions? Complaints? I will be setting up a drop box outside the Great Hall for students and teachers. It'll be anonymous. So if you have anything that you want to be heard but feel uncomfortable saying now, you'll have then to express your concerns."

"There are none, Ms. Dumbledore."

"Please... it's Naima." Professor Flitwick smiled and, after turning down a Twizzler, made his way out of the door. Naima flopped back down in the chair. She had been so nervous about her first meeting. The worst– Professor Malfoy and Argus Filch– were yet to come.

"I am so proud of you!" Naima looked up to see her grandfather smiling down at her with that strange twinkle in his eye.

"Thanks, Pa-pa. Let's just hope the others are so impressed."

The remainder of the meetings that day more or less went the same way. Many teachers were quite taken aback by her frankness and unflinching candor. Most were open to the idea of castle renovation and stared at her when she mentioned anything about the uniforms. For the most part, she could see the excitement and apprehension playing out their battles on their faces. But eventually, Naima learned to cope with the fact that she still had to prove herself to them. Not to mention that she had her Pa-pa there to help her if she needed. When Friday morning had come, she contentedly ordered her breakfast of eggs and toast to be brought up and then made her way down to the office. When she arrived, she found her appointment waiting for her.

"Good morning, Hermione." She chirped and then took her seat behind her desk. "I trust you slept well.

"Good morning." She smiled. "I brought my lesson plans just in case you wanted to go over them."

"Thorough. But I wasn't planning on requesting them from the staff until today." Hermione's meeting went the smoothest. The young woman knew exactly what she was talking about, memorizing the teaching guidelines and her lesson plans word for word. It was almost liked talking to a walking textbook. Later, She had met with Ron and Argus Filch and others, and she was quite pleased to see that it was going to be a good day. It really wasn't until her 3 o'clock, and very last appointment, showed.

"Please come in and have a seat, Professor." Naima pointed to the chair across from her. Professor Malfoy took his seat and lazily leaned back and adjusted his tie.

"I wanted to host this meeting so that I can get to know the staff a bit better."

"You can start, then." He nodded. He was already getting off on the wrong foot.

"First, I wanted to ask your name."

"You may continue to call me Professor Malfoy." Naima's cheeks grew hot.

"Of course. And since "we are keeping it strictly professional I will only answer to Headmistress Dumbledore.

"How long have you been teaching here?"

"Five years."

"How long have you been teaching?"

"You've already asked that.

"No I asked how long you've been teaching at this establishment. My second question was how long you've been teaching." Naima felt like she was going to pop his little head right off his neck.

"Five years."

"Where did you attend school?" He rolled his eyes.

"_Hogwarts._ Isn't all this in my file?"

"I don't like to look into files when I can personally ask people. Now, my next question is, what class do you teach?"

"Potions." He looked as if he wanted to kill her, but Naima wasn't giving up that easily.

"I hear you replenish the potions for Madame Pomfrey. Did you study under a potions master?"

"You already know that I did." He sighed.

"How do you feel about the castle undergoing some renovation?"

"It's a piss bucket in some areas, but I'd rather not soil the good English taste with yours." Naima pursed her lips.

"I suppose everyone's entitled to their own opinions. Some might consider the decor here a bit too cold. What do you think about the school uniforms?"

"I think they're fine just the way they are. I don't want to mess up a thousand-or-so year tradition on the whim of some little girl." Naima chose to ignore his insults.

"My final question is: Do you have any questions/suggestions? If you don't I will be making a suggestion drop box that will be placed in front of the Great Hall if you want to say something anonymously."

"Yeah, I have a suggestion. You're in way over your head, ma peche. Why don't you go back to Missus-chew-shits."

"That's Massachusetts." Naima's eye began to twitch. "And while I appreciate your concern, I can assure you that I'm a big girl and can handle anything you or your governors can throw at me. I was hoping to facilitate a peaceful working environment and I understand that you feel underappreciated because you as Deputy Headmaster had been passed up for someone much younger than you, but I would like to work together if not in a friendly environment, then in a peaceful one. So what do you say to a cease fire?" Naima stuck out her hand. Professor Malfoy stood and brushed his robes off.

"Was there anything else, Headmistress?" Naima was a bit disappointed, but she didn't show it.

"That is all, Professor." she waved him away and turned to her papers, intent on not watching him go. When she heard the door slam, she breathed a sigh of relief. That man was going to drive her up the wall.


	3. They Come

A/N:

Thanks for the review kiwiskigirl! You've definitely made my day so I decided to go ahead and post the next chapter ahead of schedule. Thanks, again. And to anyone else who's read REVIEW!

Chapter Three: They Come

The next few days Naima was at a loss. She didn't know whether she should just go on and write a speech or say whatever came to mind or what. Minerva had already helped by giving her a few simple reminders to squawk back to the children, things that had to be said every year. But she was afraid that she needed to do something a bit more elaborate, something that'll help them get to know her better.

She didn't want to drone on and on about her life story. That was for sure. And she didn't want to do some over-the-top king-worthy announcement, either. She wanted to show them that she was fun and spunky, but definitely not to be trifled with. How could she convey something like that to a group of eleven to eighteen-year-olds in under two minutes and keep all their attention?

Naima sighed and leaned back in her chair and looked out the window. She would use her old Headmaster's model, but his speeches were the ones she got the best sleep. She would even ask her grandfather, but she didn't want to copy his style.

"Something the matter, dear?" Naima looked up and smiled at the portrait of Albus Dumbledore, the greatest wizard to have ever walked these halls.

"I just don't know what to say to them." She began to ramble, "I'm afraid they won't like me or they'll think they could run all over me or…"

"Slow down, my girl, slow down!" He chuckled merrily.

"I'm sorry, grandfather, I wish I was a better Headmistress like you want me to be."

"A better…you haven't even started yet! This isn't the Naima Dumbledore I know!"

"I know Pa-pa, but it's so frustrating!"

"I never said it would be easy, Nina, you just need to focus. I know you'll find something to say." Naima sighed. "I would ask you for a sample speech, but I'm sure it was as kooky as you are crazy, Pa-pa." Albus had that familiar twinkle in his eye and her nudged the tip of his nose and winked.

"Alright, I suppose I'll take a break, get something to eat or something." Naima stood and smoothed down her skirt. She didn't feel like wearing witch's robes until she absolutely had to. She felt like her tight, black suit would do just fine. Nothing special, just a little something simple from Anne Taylor's fall collection.

"I thought I'd find you in here, but I never expected to catch you feeling yourself up." Naima whipped around to find Professor Malfoy staring at her with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"What is it that you want, Malfoy?"

"I came to turn in the documents you requested." Naima's face realized as she remembered.

"Oh, yes. Thank you. You can set it on my desk." Naima looked out the window and began to massage her neck. Her stomach was in knots. Even though she promised Professor Malfoy that she could handle any and everything they threw at her, she had a feeling something might go wrong in her first year. And she was especially concerned that the governors might be out to get her because of her heritage, not to mention her age. She removed her jacket. And stepped away from the window, jumping a little when she found Professor Malfoy still standing there.

"Are you done with your wistful getaway?"

"Is there something else you wanted to speak to me about?"

"I'm concerned about the comment you made about uniforms last week. You're not trying to get rid of them, are you?"

"Now why would I do a silly thing like that?"

"I don't know, Headmistress Dumbledore. I don't know you well enough to say."

"Well, I'll alleviate your fears by saying that no, I do not plan on getting rid of uniforms." Naima stepped around to her chair and took a seat.

"What makes you think you can fill his shoes?" Professor Malfoy asked. Naima sighed and rubbed her temples.

"Professor," she started.

"No, really. I just want to know."

"I can assure you that everything will be under control. I don't need you in my ear, nagging me. You are not my wife and I'm not asking you if it's okay that I go and hang out with the boys. I am the headmistress of this institution and you are my subordinate," He began to protest, "As much as you may hate the idea, I have more pull at this moment. You're trying my patience, but just don't piss me off. You'll be hard pressed to get me to calm down."

"I'm not afraid of you." Naima was getting bored with this banter.

"And I'm not afraid of you. You have a secure job here, why are you making things so difficult? Oh, is it because you hate having someone younger than you over you or are you just afraid that your job might be at stake because my grandfather and you fought on opposing sides? I don't care about your past, anymore, Professor, and until you make me worry that you have it out for the muggle-borns in this school, I could care less about what you do. Now please leave my office, I want to be alone."

"Miss your boyfriend?" Naima suddenly grew angry and she stood and pointed at the door.

"Fine, I guess I can get the hint that I'm not going to get anything out of you." When he was gone, she placed her head in her hands.

"Is everything alright, dear?" She looked up at the portrait smiling with some uncertainty. She didn't know if she should tell him exactly why Professor Malfoy's comments bothered her.

"Pa-pa…I know this might sound silly, but…"

"But what?" She looked down at her hands, wringing them in her lap.

"Do you think I'm pretty?" She chanced a glance at him, waiting with bated breath.

"Of course not! I've seen thestrals that look better than you do!"

"Grandpa! I'm serious!" Albus' laughter wilted away and he smiled down at her.

"You're beautiful Nina, why would you doubt that?"

"I don't know. I just… sometimes I feel like an outcast. I mean… I don't belong anywhere, Pa, and now that I'm here, I feel like I'll never belong."

"Naima, you may look a bit different than most here, but you'll remember that there are others like you here, too."

"No there aren't."

"I mean when the students arrive."

"And what about that grandpa? What if the student's don't like me because… well, not only am I American, but…"

"Silence!" Albus roared. "My God child? What have they done to you over there?"

"I just get treated differently by everyone." Naima sniffed, holding back tears. "The whites, the blacks, the muggles, and the wizards. I just want to belong somewhere."

"Such diversity only adds to your scope of experience, Nina. Don't look for hatred when it isn't there."

"I'm not looking for it! I'm just afraid it might be there."

"Do you really think that anyone's going to question your value? You're my grandchild, for Merlin's sake. It's different here."

"I know, Grandpa, I know. Sometimes it just makes me a little sad that I can't fit in where I'm from, is all."

"What brought all this about? How long have you been thinking about this?"

"Well… when Professor Malfoy said something about a boyfriend, well…" Albus leaned back in his chair and sighed.

"Ah."

" No one looks at me."

"I think they do, you probably just misinterpret the signals."

"Not ever since high school." Albus furrowed his brows but didn't ask her to clarify.

"Why don't you have a pipper-pepper mint. You put them in the third drawer on your right." Naima was about to say that she didn't want any candy at the moment, but she decided her grandfather wouldn't be satisfied until she had some. After popping one in her mouth, she found that her mood did improve a bit, and at least now she didn't feel like crying.

"You're so emotional, just like your mother." Naima's face broke into a smile.

"My mom did have the craziest mood swings in the world."

"Well, now that you feel better, I'm going to tell you something."

The pep-talk her grandfather gave her that evening was one of the best yet. He assured her that she wasn't half bad by saying she reminded her of some of the animals on campus and made her feel better when he mentioned he couldn't taste the difference between broccoli and cauliflower. Naima giggled then because he knew he ran out of metaphors: anyone could tell the difference between the two.

Although he made her feel a good deal better, there was still a little problem at hand. She still didn't know what to say to everyone at the feast. Would it be like an induction ceremony? Would she be straight and to the point? She really didn't want to drag it out. Naima sat at her desk, quill in hand, thinking to herself.

_Dear Faculty, Staff, and Students._

_Good Evening Faculty, Staff, and Students,_

_Hogwarts has a world-renowned history of great leaders that have filtered through this compound. Whether founder, professor, student or staff member, there are stories of unheard of courage and commitment…_

Naima thought long and hard. This was starting to sound too president-speech-y. She sighed and tried again.

_Through hard work and dedication, past Headmasters and Headmistresses have kept this school going even in the face of adversity and in the terrible times of war. And while we must never forget our past, whether dark, sordid, bright, or peaceful, we must always look towards the future. _

_I cannot say that I will ever fill the shoes of England's greatest leaders. I cannot say that I will be the best Headmistress of this school. I can't even tell you that I am the best witch for the job. But what I can tell you is this: we all have something in common-- a love of peace, a thirst for knowledge, and the important quest to educate every witch and wizard in all of wizarding England. I will do all I can to hear your voices so that I might better serve you. _

_Now, I am called to remind you that the Forbidden Forest is, well, forbidden for any students. Also, I have added a question/suggestion box out in front of the Great Hall for both students and faculty members if one has an issue that they wish to discuss but are uncomfortable with sharing face-to-face. _

Naima sat back in her chair and read it again and again and again until she felt it would serve its purpose and then proceeded to memorize the entire thing. She had to: the feast was tomorrow.

Naima nervously sat at the middle of the table, staring down on the house tables, her stomach in knots. How should she act? The stern witch part, or the benevolent leader front? Should she be completely formal without being too stiff or should she just not care and act totally normal? Surely she couldn't keep up the 'classy, rod-up-my-ass' look all year. Naima sucked in a deep breath and leaned back in her chair. _Try not to look like the kooky American. Try not to look like the kooky American… try not to look…_

Naima's heart hammered in her chest as the first of the kids, twelve and older, began filing in, gawking at her. A few whispers here and there and the entire Hall erupted in chatter. Naima gripped her fork, shivering slightly as a cold sweat began to take root. It grew harder and harder to maintain her smile. Draco reached over and handed her a flagon of pumpkin juice.

"A wee bit nervous, are we?" She suspiciously glared at him, sure that he wasn't being nice and probably had some horrible trick up his sleeve-- like poisoned pumpkin juice. She looked back over the Great Hall and smiled at everyone, watching a young girl trip on her own robes as she sat down.

"There's so many of them." Naima frowned.

"It's the future of England." Hermione smiled proudly.

When Minerva McGonagall opened the great doors again, leading a long line of first years, Naima held her breath. Even in America they seemed to get tinier and tinier each year. So when she placed a battered old hat on the stool and turned to face the first years, Naima nearly jumped back when the hat began to talk. She had always heard about the great magical Sorting Hat said to house the brain of the founding father Godric Gryffindor, but that didn't prepare her for the actual thing.

Don't frown like that

I swear I'm harmless!

I work all year on my little charmses

For hours a day I slave away

Thinking of things to say-- what to say?

The Dark Lord gone,

We dance, we cheer

And now it's a whole new school year!

To what do I owe this magnificent pleasure

Of us getting to spend this time happily together!

I'm the Sorting Hat,

You'll find, you'll see

Godric Gryffindor put his own brains in me.

So now you wonder,

Why I'm here, I see

Don't you have more faith in me?

I'll tell you what House you belong in,

So let's put our heads together and begin!

On far right,

Pure Slytherin,

You'll always find them cunning and wise

Follow in,

Brave Gryffindor!

Somewhat against even little white lies

Inward still,

Stout Hufflepuff!

Friends here you'll find and keep

Far left,

You'll find smart Ravenclaw,

Where intelligence's the _only_ language they speak

When all these Houses come together,

They'll knock Dark Lords right off their feet!

And stay with us at Hogwarts and you'll find

We have the best school far and wide!

The ludicrous, badly rhymed sing-song voice of the Sorting Hat definitely calmed her nerves. Naima exhaled the breath she didn't realize she was holding and sat back in her chair again.

"When I call your name, you will step up and place the Sorting Hat on your head. After you receive your assignment, you will take your place at your respective House table. Angelus, Amelia!" Professor McGonagall started down the list. Naima smiled and nodded at each child as they nervously made their way up to the stool and placed the tattered old hat on their head.

When Professor McGonagall finished, she'd welcomed them to Hogwarts and introduced Naima as the new Headmistress of the school. Naima nervously stood and smiled at the crowd. She then launched into her prepared speech, forgetting nothing and delivering it perfectly. Proud of herself, she had the urge to say something quite silly, but fought it off and blamed it on defective genes.

When she took a seat and the Hall erupted into chatter again, she was as amazed as the first years when food magically appeared on the table and her plate was filled with some of her favorite foods such as Cornish hen, mashed potatoes, yams, string beans, corn, squash-- you name it, they had it!

Naima made a mental note to thank the house elves whenever she got the chance. They certainly outdid any house-elves that ever worked at Salem's. "I must admit, you didn't embarrass yourself, at least." Naima shrugged when Draco leaned over to whisper in her ear. She shrugged and tossed her hair over her shoulder.

"Such a concerned underling." Draco's eyes flashed in anger and annoyance. Naima saw Hermione choking on her pumpkin juice as she attempted to stifle a laugh.

Well, I felt like that chapter should have a bit more meat to it, but don't worry, the nest one will be filled with fun, fun, FUN! Let's see how the little American dances when she meets the Board of Governors!

Thank you so much for reading! And don't forget, REVIEW!


	4. DADA

Okay, here's the next installment. Thank you everyone for reading, and thank you kiwiskigirl for reminding me that I haven't posted in a long time. Sorry, I had a 3d model to build in a very short amount of time. Not to mention mid-terms and such. Okay, so here it is!

Disclaimer: I only own Naima.

Chapter Four: DADA

Naima sat at her desk, looking over billions of papers, as confused and lost as she had been on her first day as Headmistress. There were thousands of policies and such she had to sidestep. But they were so ancient, it didn't seem like they would be too hard to rewrite. Naima sneezed when a book was slammed down on the desk, kicking up dust.

It was the Head Librarian, Madame Pince, an ancient tome, herself. The book had to have been about four thousand pages long, its pages yellowing and browning in the corners, a smelly bubble of mildew surrounding it.

"This is what you were looking for the other day."

Naima smiled, "Thank you, Madame, I wouldn't have found it." The older woman leaned back and looked down her nose at her.

"Will that be all, Headmistress?"

"Yes, and thank you again." She watched as the woman left the room. Naima pulled out her wand and muttered a simple spell. The book flipped open and wildly began flipping through its pages. When it stopped, she anxiously looked down.

…shall be worn, ankle-length. Underneath, slacks, skirt…shirt, tie… insignia of house.

"Perfect." She smirked. There wasn't any statement saying that black was the color. She only guessed that it was assumed that one would choose black. She stood and stretched. At least she didn't have to side-step anything. She would draw up the plans that night for the uniform change.

She looked to the window at the sound of tapping. Welcoming the bird inside, she poured it some water and left a small piece of toast by the side of the dish. Taking the letter in hand, she turned it over, surprised and a little fearful when she saw the official seal of the Board of Governors. Paling slightly, she opened it and tore through the lines impatiently:

Headmistress,

The Board of Governors would like to congratulate you on your historic induction as the leader of our great nation's academy, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As a rule, we conduct an official investigation of all Headmaster candidates. We have scheduled a meeting for noon on Monday, September 10, at the Entrance.

Sincerely,

There were thirteen names signed at the bottom. Naima sucked in a deep breath. An investigation? She hadn't heard anything about it. Naima called Professor McGonagall into her office and told her about the letter.

"That's strange, indeed."

"What do you mean?"

"I've never been investigated like that. And they gave you almost no notice." She paused, "A meeting… tomorrow. I wonder why they would schedule it at such a turbulent time."

"I can't imagine, either." The two were silent for a moment, each forming her own thoughts about it. Professor McGonagall was the first to speak.

"I needed to speak with you about something."

"Yes?"

"Mr. Weasley has informed me that he needs to take a short break from his fill-in position as Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor."

"What?"

"He has been teaching the class since last year, since the last professor quit," she said as if the entire world knew.

"Who was that?"

"Kingsley Shacklebot. He was called back to duty as an auror after the little uprising in Whales."

"Interesting."

"Yes, well, we need to find a replacement as quickly as possible. He and his wife have just learned that there will be another addition to their family."

"Oh, a pregnant wife? I didn't know that he was married."

"Yes, to Professor Granger." Naima raised her brows. Now that she thought back on it, there was a ring on Hermione's finger, but it seemed like just a gold band. It must have been turned into her palm.

"Oh, so that must have sparked this change."

"Well, yes." McGonagall sought to change the subject. "Are you all right, Naima? You seem a bit…red."

"Oh, I've probably been out in the sun a bit much." McGonagall looked out the window to see an overcast sky. It had been that way for the past couple of days. Brows furrowed, she turned back to Naima.

"Right, then, I'll be sure to start looking for that replacement." Who knew running a school would carry so much drama? When Professor McGonagall excused herself, Naima took a seat behind her desk and looked out the window. Life here was going to be hard to adjust to.

Overcome with grief and a small spark of annoyance at her weakness, she slammed her forehead to the desk and groaned.

"What's the matter, dear?" Naima chanced a peak at the portrait.

"Is there some deity that I must have upset during the short span of my life? Why is it that there's more and more crap piling on my desk by the second?"

"That's just how it is, being a leader. You'll never be in the same spot twice, and there always seems to be more work waiting for you every time you've finished something else. That's just the way it is. Why, I remember when…" She knew he was about to start one of his long, draw out, irrelevant story.

"Pa-pa, please." Albus stopped, but he watched her carefully.

"Have you been taking your medicine lately? You've been seeming a bit short."

"Of course," she frowned. "But…"

"You know that if you skip even just one dosage, Naima…"

"I know." Naima frowned.

"That enchantment isn't to be trifled with. You know that I worry about what may happen if you miss your medication." Naima looked up at him and forced a smile.

"I'm not my mother, Pa-pa."

"I know that. But you also have my blood running through your veins. You're much more powerful and if it isn't kept in check, you just might be overcome by it." Naima stood and reached into one of the cabinets to pull out a strange flask.

"Here's to good health." she raised the flask and then took three big gulps, wincing at the horrid taste and acrid smell. Capping it, she noticed her complexion slowly returning to normal.

"I've been taking this stuff everyday of my life, but it doesn't make the taste any less horrid." she shoved it back into the cabinet.

"Well, once the enchantment's broken, you wouldn't have to worry about it."

"Please, let's not start with this again."

"And why not? You're getting older now, you should be looking to start a family."

"Passing this thing on to someone else, is not what I want to do."

"If you break it, you won't have to worry about that. And the Dumbledore bloodline wouldn't be wiped out." Naima frowned.

"Maybe we're like the Four Founders, like Voldemort-- a thing of the past. Legends, soon to be myths." Naima reached into her shirt and pulled out a carnelian stone wrapped with leather. It was stone used to ward off evil thoughts and psychic attacks. If she were to take this thing off…

For a moment she wanted to. There were times when she desperately wanted to, but to do so would mean nothing but death and destruction. To do so would mean hell on earth. An entrapment of her very own soul. And all because her great-great-great-great-great grandmother, in her 'do good' mood, decided to try and kill a powerful, evil witch by the name of Azurea. Of course, it backfired, and she was used as a pawn.

The Berserker Enchantment.

Many have read about, it was rare to meet someone with it. A curse that passes on to the next generation through the mother, it was something too cruel for even the Death Eaters to use. The only way to get rid of it? To pass it on to the next poor, defenseless fetus. The only other way to get rid of it would be to get the caster to remove it. Fat chance, seeing that the woman she would be looking for would be over five-hundred years old, and in hiding with the only other Philosopher's Stone.

Naima swallowed back the seething hatred in her and sat down in her chair again. There had to be something she could do about this. Anything. She rubbed her temples and forced her mind to something else. Thinking about that stupid enchantment always got her riled up.

"Alright, Governors, if you want your stupid meeting, you'll have it."

When Naima went to sleep that night, she kept getting a strange sense of foreboding. As if something terrible was coming. Every time she closed her eyes, there was a liquid black void, a darkness so thick it left her breathless. When she finally fell into an uncomfortable sleep, a bloodstone, wrapped in leather, was all she could see. Rocking back and forth towards her in a strange pace.

Panting, she tossed and turned all night, wondering why her dreams would show her the warrior's stone.

"Good afternoon, Governors, I'm pleased to meet you." Naima smiled and nodded in greeting. The group consisted of formidable looking witches and wizards, most with their noses high in the sky.

"I am Naima Dumbledore, and I would like to personally welcome you to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry of England, and if you'll follow me this way, I would be more than happy to give you a tour of the building.

"We haven't come for a tour, for Merlin's sake."

"We've come to interview you." Slightly surprised, Naima raised her brows. "Then follow me, please."

After leading them to a conference room, offering them tea, and listening to them ramble on and on about how young she was, she was growing a little bored. Seated at the end of the table, where everyone peered down at her, she was finally met with a full barrage of questions about her background and allegiance.

"It says here that you dropped out of Beauxbatons in only your fourth year."

"Actually, no, I was transferred to Salem's Academy in the States at that time. I wanted a change of pace and the liberal environment of the Academy nurtured my skills more effectively than did the conservative campus of Beauxbatons."

"So you're a trouble-maker?"

"No, Ma'am. I just enjoyed the duality of the campus culture. There were the Muggles that knew everything about it and the Wizards that ran the school. It was easier for me to make friends there, as they have the highest acceptance rate for muggle-borns."

"But you aren't muggle-born." asked a man with a large, wrinkly nose.

"No, I am not." She couldn't help but stare at the snout-- she'd enevr seen anyone with so _many_ wrinkles on their nose.

"Do you find the American system superior to that of Beauxbatons?" asked another.

Furrowing her brows, she looked around the room. Why would they even ask that question unless they were trying to find her unfit for the job on the account of prejudice?

"Of course not. Each system has its own strengths and weaknesses. I hope to bring those strengths I found in the Academy here to Hogwarts, without making any drastic changes that may throw the current students off a bit."

"Such as?"

"Well, I am still drawing up the new rules and regulations." someone scribbled furiously with a quill and parchment. Once he was done, he looked up at her.

"Did you graduate from Salem's Academy?"

"No, I graduated from Kyoto School for Witches and Wizards."

"Three schools in seven years. May I ask why you transferred the second time."

"Irreconcilable differences with the administration at Salem's."

"Yet you taught there for several years?"

"Well…"

"Or is it because of your behavior?" The main interviewer opened up a file.

"History of violence against peers, swearing, cursing students in the hallways, a history of depression…the list goes on-- what makes you think you're cut out for this job again?" Naima was speechless. She could have sworn that her old files were burned. She was supposed to have a clean slate after her grandfather had come clean about her sickness. So, when the interviewer made to stand, she knew she had to think quickly.

"Are you sure that the file you're holding in your hand says Naima Dumbledore?" she asked.

"Yes, I'm sure."

" I suspect you should look again." The interviewer stood this time, angry.

"How dare you accuse that we would fabricate a file!" Naima stood to look him in the eye.

"What I'm saying is that, what teenage kid hasn't been depressed at some point or another? What student, eleven through seventeen, doesn't curse. And casting curses in the halls? I'm sure you could look into my grandfather's file and find the same accusations." Naima looked around the room, accusatorially. When they wouldn't fix their eyes on her, she knew that something was up.

"This isn't about me or the way I run this school. What is it that you want from me? What strings are you trying to pull?" For a while, they were silent.

"If you have nothing more to say, I have a formal complaint to write to _your_ superiors." Naima made her way to the door.

"Zabini." Naima stopped dead in her tracks and turned around to face them.

"We are going to replace you as Headmistress with Zabini."

"No. You _were_ going to replace me. If you have a suggestion for a faculty member, he will be considered, but do not outrageously demand appointments with little to no advanced notice and make idle threats or blackmail me. Where I come from, image isn't as important to us as it is to you. Go ahead, print that fabrication in the Daily Prophet. I wonder who the world will back: you, or me, the granddaughter of a war hero. Do not make idle threats, Governors, I will call you out on them each and every time." they all had scowls on their faces by now. When Naima was sure that she reached them, she lifted her chin a little.

"As for this Zabini fellow, if you want him to tail me, be my guest. There is a position as Defense Against The Dark Arts professor is open." And with that, Naima stormed out and slammed the door behind her.

After leaving the Governors in the meetings room, Naima made her way over to McGonagall as soon as possible. After summarizing the entire meeting to her play by play, she didn't know what to think when she didn't get much of a reaction from her.

"I figured they would try that."

"What do you mean?"

"They often try to coerce us into stepping down so that they might appoint someone up to _their_ standards."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Every Governor on that board is a pureblood, and as we all know, they look out for their own kind. They suspected that since you were American and aren't used to our system, that you would relinquish your title without knowing that they can't force you to do so without just cause."

"What a bunch of jerks." Naima rubbed the back of her neck.

"You said that they wanted to replace you with Zabini?" Naima nodded her head.

"Watch him, he was a suspected Death Eater." Naima narrowed her eyes.

"Why would they want him in my office?" Professor McGonagall's eyes darkened.

"I don't know. Maybe he worked a bit of his very own charm on them."

"When do you think he'll show up?"

"He's probably already here." At the sound of his voice, Naima whipped around, a scowl on her face.

"Professor, is this a buddy of yours?" He was leaning against the doorway, arms folded.

"Maybe."

"If I think that you're trying to blackmail me…"

"Blackmail? I wouldn't have to stoop so low. It was only a matter of time before I'd have you booted. The Board doesn't take too kindly to foreigners." Professor McGonagall looked as if she was gong to chew him out.

"F.Y.I., Professor, I am still your boss. Their little tricks didn't work on me. And I'm sure that the Daily Prophet would love to hear how they marched into my office with fabricated documents, trying to get me to step down and appoint someone else. They'd look into that, wouldn't they?"

"You give the media too much credit." Naima stared at him for a moment.

"Professor, you and your friend are going to catch hell if you continue to push my buttons. Your friend will be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, nothing more." Professor Malfoy smirked.

"I'm sure he'll have your job in no time, then."

"Only when I'm dead and buried."

"You're always getting in the way of everything I do!"

"I am _not!_ You're just upset that Minerva caught you doing what you were _not_ supposed to be doing. Honestly! Sometimes I really wonder where your head is!"

"Where _my_ head is? You ditzy little _witch!_ You're the one marching around in those tight robes, trying to get all the students to look at you. Cover up sometimes!"

"WHAT?" Hermione shouted.

It was always like this whenever they were out of the staff's earshot. In their room of red and gold, they bickered constantly. Usually, Ron would get mad and leave the room, but this time, it was Hermione who left.

"What an insufferable little git! I can't believe he'd actually have the nerve to say that to my face! I hope he has fun sleeping alone tonight, again!" she was storming down the halls, shooting daggers at anyone who crossed her path. When she turned down an empty corridor, one generally unused by the students, she was surprised when someone opened a door and grabbed her wrist and pulled her into a dusty, unused classroom.

"Ronald Weasley, if you ever…" she spun around and stopped mid-sentence. That devilish smirk, those green eyes, that blond hair-- it was her nemesis, her arch rival, Draco Malfoy.

"What do _you _want?"

"Trouble in paradise?" he chuckled. Hermione haughtily raised her nose into the air and looked away.

"I don't understand why you married that idiot."

"Professor. If there's anything you'd like to discuss, I'd much rather you send an owl, or even call after me. Please, in future, refrain from grabbing me and pulling me into an unused classroom. People may begin to wonder."

"Wonder what?" There was that blasted smirk of his again. His eyes were alit with a lust that always frightened Hermione. Why did he always look at her like that?

"Malfoy, What are you staring at?" He licked his lips and began walking towards her. Hermione retreated until her back was against the wall. He placed his hands on either side of her head and stared into her eyes.

Panicking, Hermione's pulse quickened and her breaths came in shallow pants. He leaned in a bit closer. He was so close, she could smell his cologne—a lemon grass and spice kind of cologne that always made everything so hazy. When he was satisfied with her reaction, he backed away.

"Hermione," he wiped away some imaginary dribble on his chin. "Try not to drool."

"So when do we get to meet the bloke?" Ron asked as he helped Naima carry a few books to her room.

"He's supposed to be arriving tonight."

"Are you going to interview him?"

"Maybe… I haven't decided yet… too many things on my plate with the beginning of the year and all."

"So, how do you like it? You didn't stay at Salem, did you?"

"No, they sponsored us. Bought us little apartments and cars and gave us a small stipend for food. You know, they deal in both dollars and the wizard's system in America."

"No, that's interesting." His voice sounded so hollow. He had been acting a little strange since he came to help, but Naima shrugged it off, realizing that she didn't know him very well and couldn't hope to know much about his mood swings.

"Are you alright, Professor?" Ron turned his head to her and smiled.

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know…just a question. Alright, here we are."

"Wow," he dropped a few books. "Nice room," he said looking around.

"Thanks. Now I just have to figure out how to get my muggle things to work here. There's too much magical interference."

"Hmm…my dad would have loved to see all this. He had a thing for muggle stuff."

"Well, he can stop by any time. I'm happy to share information about the muggle world with anyone."

"He's gone, now. I was just remembering."

"Oh! I'm so sorry to hear that." Ron shook his head.

"No, he died a hero. He wouldn't have had it any other way." He sucked in a deep breath. "Well, I must be going. Lot's of things to grade. Thanks for getting a teacher so quickly." Naima smiled and nodded, feeling bad about bringing up such a heavy topic.

Soon after Naima finished putting her books away, she realized she was running late for dinner. So after a quick wash up, she ran down the halls, hoping no one would notice her absence. When she entered, there was a strange cacophony hushed whispers amongst the crowd of students. They were all looking at her. Confused, she glanced up at the staff's table, and her eyes darkened. There was a hooded figure sitting in her chair.

Walking briskly to the table, she bent down and whispered in the person's ear, "I don't know who you are or who you think you are, but this is my chair. Please, remove yourself and take down that hood. You are probably frightening the children.

When the figure lowered its hood, a crown of mussed up silky black hair was exposed. When he turned and smiled, his cerulean eyes dancing brightly, she knew that this was the new recruit. She stood straight and stared down the bridge of her nose and took in his olive complexion and handsome features. He certainly wasn't British.

"No worries, I was only warming the seat for you." There was a light accent, but she couldn't exactly place it.

"How kind of you, Professor. Your seat is that way." She smiled as sweetly as she could. Taking her seat, she looked to Hermione with utter disbelief. Hermione shrugged and mouthed, "I told him." Naima shook her head and looked to her plate, the image of his startlingly bright eyes still in her mind.

Later that evening, Naima ran into the mysterious newcomer on one of the balconies jutting out of the astronomy tower. He was staring at the half moon, taking a light drag of his cigarette. He looked so bloody gorgeous that Naima couldn't help but stare.

As he took another drag, she analyzed all the subtleties of his actions. When he inhaled, he lifted his chin just slightly, closing his eyes. His face illuminated by the light of the moon, he had an ethereal glow. He would exhale, and the tiny wisps of smoke streaked across the moon. She watched him as he did this several more times, and it wasn't until the seventh drag that he opened his eyes and smirked.

"Are you going to stay there in the shadows staring all night?" Blushing, Naima stepped out onto the balcony and made her way over to him.

"I wasn't spying, if that's what you think." His eyes, a startling cerulean, cut to her.

"Is that a fact?" he raised a brow. Naima didn't like the way that look was making her feel.

"So, where are you from? I hear an accent."

"L'Italia, inamorato, et voi?" The only thing she caught was 'Italy'. Professor Zabini shook his head and smiled. "Where are you from?"

"Massachusetts, but my family's from England."

"I thought your accent was a little strange."

"Have you taught anywhere else?"

"Is this an interview?"

"Maybe." Zabini turned fully and rested his elbows on the rail.

"I am twenty-three years old, born and raised in Italy, schooled in England, and I studied under Alastor Moody for two years before teaching in Italy. Is there anything else you wanted to know?"

"Your bio sounds a lot like mine."

"Except you're younger."

"I'm really getting tired of people harping on my age."

"I wouldn't be surprised. You're one of the youngest witches to accept a position here. You're definitely the youngest witch or wizard to ever be appointed as Headmistress. You're pretty impressive."

"Are you trying to coax me into feeling comfortable around you? Because I won't forget that you're trying to take my job." He shrugged noncommittally.

"Sorry if we got off on the wrong foot, cara mia, but I didn't even have a face to a name." He kicked off the rail and started walking back into the tower, leaving Naima with her thoughts.

So! I hope everyone likes the chapter! To clarify a few things, I wanted to make it known that Naima is half-Black, half- British, and has a very exotic look to her, which she thinks makes her look ugly (a hottie with low self-esteem. I'll clarify this later)

see ya!


	5. Marriage a la Mode

Disclaimer: You know the drill

A/N: Sorry it's been so long, but I had another model due on Monday and I have been busting my imaginary balls over it. Well, Hope you enjoy this next chapter! This is where things start to get interesting.

Chapter Five: Marriage, À la Mode

The crashing sound of another dish resounded through the large apartment. There was shouting and scuffling, Hogwarts most famous couple conveying their frustrations with the other in the best way they knew how.

"I can't believe you! McGonagall already catches you and you go off and do it again? Do you _want_ to lose your job?" Hermione screamed. She was at the end of her patience with him.

Ever since the defeat of Voldemort, the loss of his father, and the loss of his spot on the Chudley Cannons, Ronald Weasley fell into a seemingly endless void of desperation and depression. His only consolation: alcohol. There was nothing that Hermione, Harry, or even anyone in his family could do to stop him. He wasted no moment of the day without his 'happy face'. He seemed to thoroughly enjoy using his altered state as an excuse for everything stupid thing he did.

It was marrying her that saved him, and everybody knew it. It was the job giving flying lessons that kept him sober. But now that their marriage was falling apart—no one could deny it—he was starting to sneak off for nightly visits to the pub. She even caught him cheating two years back, and of course, he thought the three words 'I was drunk' could excuse him from any immoral behavior. Intelligence told her to leave then, but in her heart, she knew she couldn't leave him to waste away. Hermione was one of the only things keeping him from throwing his life away.

And it was a burden.

There was no love in the relationship, anymore— only responsibility. What made him think that she could continue to love him when he was being so childish? When would he grow up and get over his father's death? Losing a parent is traumatizing, but using it as an excuse for just giving up on life was intolerable. He always talks about how much he wished his father was still alive while throwing his own away. It was tiresome, and Hermione didn't know how much longer she could take it. So when Ron next spoke, his voice coated in venom and ice, she couldn't help herself.

"What I do with _my_ time and money is no business of that snooping bitch or _you!_" Hermione thought differently, and the red imprint of a hand and stinging sensation on his cheek proved it.

"You little bitch!" Ron started towards her, but was interrupted when the door flung open.

"Weasley, Granger! Shut the hell up for once! You're waking up half the damned castle!" When Ron snapped around, Malfoy's eyes diverted to her face for a moment, as if he was looking for something.

Of course Malfoy would take it upon himself to interrupt something so personal. When he slammed the door shut and Ron whipped around to glare at her, Hermione got a far away look in her eyes, thinking.

"I'll be in my room if you want to apologize." How dare he!

Before Hermione could react, he was already in the other room. She was left there, standing in her personal kitchen, fuming. Fuck him and fuck Malfoy. Why did he look at her like that? And why the hell does he always call her by her maiden name? It was rude, and downright disrespectful of their marriage. What the hell was he playing at? Why was he all over her the other day?

Naima's day hadn't gone any better. She had a morning full of paper pushing, an afternoon of speaking with interior decorators, and an evening of being bombard with questions about the new DADA teacher. After getting settled, he was to start on Wednesday, and the Monday after that, he was going to be evaluated. So as Naima sunk lower in the steaming hot water of her personal bathtub, she thought about how she was going to announce the uniform change, and when she would do it.

Naima was beginning to think that she was going to allow the children to pick their own colors out of the two house colors they wanted, but it was obvious which ones would be chosen: red, blue, yellow, and green. No one would want to wear gold, silver, bronze or black all the time, but she would give them the choice, nonetheless. Of course, she could make it an option to wear whichever color of any given value or tint, but she didn't know if the professors would enjoy that.

After dressing in a simple cotton nightgown, Naima jumped in the bed, only to be disturbed by a knock on her office door. Groaning as if in pain, she took her time in getting to the door, annoyed that someone would disturb her so late in the evening.

When she opened the door, to her surprise, it wasn't a teacher standing there, but an older Ravenclaw with the hood of his robes covering his head. "Hello, dear, is there something I can help you with?"

"Kevin Thomas, ma'am. I need to speak with someone, and I didn't know who else I could talk to." When the boy looked up with tearful gray eyes, Naima sucked in a deep breath.

"Oh, dear, do come in." She opened the door wider and escorted the boy inside, wondering what would cause him to call so late in the evening. Whatever it was, it was serious, and she was more than willing to help. So after conjuring some herbal tea, and placing a warm blanket around his shoulders, she sat, not behind her desk, but in the chair beside him.

"Is there something the matter?" He didn't respond immediately, and Naima looked around the room at the portraits of the previous Headmasters, all looking down with a hint of curiosity in their eyes, and one Salazaar Slytherin annoyed by the interruption.

"Professor, before I begin, I ask that you promise me that this never gets back around to me. I… I don't want to…" he choked. Naima furrowed her brows and poured him a cup of tea in hopes that it would calm him down.

"It's okay. Whatever is said today will remain confidential as long as it doesn't put you or anyone else in any sort of danger." The boy thought about it for a moment, and then nodded, taking a sip of his tea.

"I… don't know how to start."

"The beginning is the best place, I always say." He frowned and then looked up at her again, his eyes striking.

"Now tell me, what's bothering you?"

"It's my girlfriend, Headmistress, she's been so different lately… and I don't know why. She wouldn't say anything to me." He sucked in a deep breath. "At first I thought she was just in one of her moods, but then I started seeing scars on her body. She said that they came from flying lessons, and I believed her because she never gets on a broom without falling. But then…" He choked.

"Go on."

"I started to see these cuts on her wrists." Naima's jaw tightened and her heart dropped. The boy stared up at her wide eyed. "Professor, I don't know if someone's doing this to her or if she's doing it to herself, but I'm worried. She's been saying a lot of stuff lately that I…"

"It's all right." Naima hushed him. "What is her name?"

"Crystal Taydon. She's in Ravenclaw with me, sixth year."

"Okay. I'll have a talk with Madam Pomfrey."

"No! She'll know it was me! She'll hate me forever!" Naima sat back in her chair.

"How much do you care for her, Kevin?" she asked. He looked down at his hands.

"More than anything in the world…more than… more than life itself…" Naima frowned. It was dangerous to love so much at such a pivotal stage in one's life. If this ordeal wasn't settles, and soon, the both of them might end up being scarred for life.

"Then you should be more concerned about her mental and physical health than your relationship with her. Regardless if she pinpoints you, her recovery is what is important."

"But professor—" She needed to respond quickly, but she didn't want this one to fall into a pit of despair, too. Maybe she could try a different route.

"What classes does she take?"

"Potions, Arithmancy, Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts…" Naima stopped him.

"Alright. I'll try and work it out so that a professor discovers the marks. If I can't find anyone to cooperate, then I will do what is necessary, okay?" Kevin sucked in another breath and nodded. He understood. He couldn't be selfish when his girlfriend might be in trouble.

"Okay, now, I want you to finish the rest of your tea and get a good night's rest, okay? Tomorrow, I want you to follow her, make sure she isn't alone at any time. Hopefully, I'll have a professor make a move by the end of the day, okay?"

"Thank you so much, professor. You have no idea how worried I am."

"I can only imagine." When Kevin finished his tea and left the room, Naima felt the heavy burden now placed on her shoulders.

"Did this sort of thing ever happen during _your_ tutelage?" she seemingly spoke to the ground. When she looked up, her grandfather was looking very grim.

"Unfortunately, it happens all too often."

The next day was extraordinarily busy for Naima. After speaking with Professor McGonagall about the crisis, she was satisfied with a thin-lipped, curt nod as if the woman was going to erase the problem. Happy that she had an ally, she spoke with several interior decorators and several students that were walking by. In light of what happened last night, she was sure that she needed to bond with her students much more: learn their names, birthdays, cliques—everything.

She met a few interesting characters to say the least. There was Diana Orokovich, an excitable Beater for the Gryffindors and a transfer student from Russia. She couldn't stop marveling at how tall Naima was. There was also Victor Gable, a young Hufflepuff boy with a passion for frogs—she learned that he had already gotten in trouble with Professor Grubb for exceeding the limit of only one pet per student. And Julie and Boris McAlgon, a very studious set of fraternal twins that played for opposing teams: one Gryffindor, and one Slytherin. The Raveclaws Elizabeth, Allison, and Gretchen were all very studious as well, and it was fun playing the regional wizard's chess champ Allison during lunchtime.

With all that, it was already an extremely busy day. But when she was on her way to meet up with some first years, she caught two boys in a middle of a tousle near the Great Hall. By the looks of it, the two were probably seventh years, of muscular build, and from the infamously opposing houses, Gryffindor and Slytherin. Cheering, many students were enjoying the spectacle, screaming 'fight, fight'.

"_Petrify!_" She and someone else shouted in unison. Fortunately, they hit different targets, and both boys fell to the ground like stones in contorted positions. She stormed up to them, arms crossed over her chest. When the instigators saw her, they scattered.

"Fifty points from Gryffindor and fifty points from Slytherin," before she continued, she caught two who were a little late in their escape.

"_You two!_" they turned around to meet her eyes, their fear apparent.

"Who are these students?" but they weren't the ones to answer the question.

"Ezekial Harris and Klaus Vandergogh," She turned to find Zabini standing there, hands in his robes, leaning against the wall with an heir of indifference.

"You've been here the entire time, Professor," she asked with a raised brow.

"I got here just as you did, Naima." She glared at him for a moment or two before pointing her wand at both boys.

"_Finite Incantatem. _Now, I have half a mind to turn you two into six-year-old girls-- my office, now."

After summoning the Heads of the Houses, and dealing out the appropriate punishment, Naima, still steaming, sat in her office. Apparrantly, Mister Vandergogh insulted Harris' muggle background and the tousle was the end result. She assigned Harris two full weeks of detention with Argus Filch and Vandergogh and entire month of helping the house elves in the kitchens.

Both Malfoy and Hermione believed the punishment suitable, and when they left, Naima turned her chair to face the back window. Even though reason told her that these things always happen, she felt like her school was falling apart. Naima sighed and dropped her head onto the head of the chair in defeat.

"Someone needs to teach these kids some respect." She was surprised when she heard a voice, very close to her reply.

"Tell me about it." She quickly turned back towards the door to find Zabini standing there, arms crossed and foot propped up on the wall.

"And didn't your pureblood mother teach you manners? You need to get your foot off my wall."

"Someone's in a bad mood." He took the opportunity to take a seat in front of her desk.

"Is there something you need, Professor?"

"I need you to stop calling me Professor. We're colleagues. You don't have to be so stiff all the time."

"I'm sorry, Zabini, is there anything I can do for you?"

"There are many things you can do for me, Naima, but if I list them all, I'm sure I'd get fired." Naima blushed a deep mahogany and her back straightened.

"Watch your mouth."

"No need to get all worked up, innamorato. It was only a joke. Normal people do that in social situations."

"I don't need you to lecture me on social behavior, Zabini." She was starting to get even angrier.

"Alright, calm down. I just wanted to let you know that I think you were a little harsh. Most fights only get you two days of detention…maybe even a week."

"I tend to handle these situations with a heavy hand, Zabini. Nothing you say is going to make me renig."

"I wasn't really going to ask you to."

"Harris needs to learn that he can't react violently every time someone insults his heritage and Vandergogh needed to learn some humility. Both Professors agree that my punishments were appropriate and I don't see how you would have any say."

"Cat-tay." He smirked. That self-satisfied look really drilled her.

"Do you enjoy get a rise out of me, Zabini? I've only known you for two days and already you think you know me well enough to joke around."

"You should be honored: I only bother people I find interesting." Naima was at a loss for words.

"If there's nothing further you wish to discuss, I would like to be left alone, please."

"Of course, Professor."

After personally scorning the two students in the hallway outside the Headmistress' office, Hermione and Malfoy made their way to the Great Hall for the rest of lunch. Neither saying much to the other, they were left with their own thoughts about school, the new Headmistress, and each other. Hermione was the first to speak of course, and when she did, Malfoy visibly tensed.

"I'm sorry that our shouting match kept you up, Malfoy."

"If I didn't know any better, I would have thought you caught him cheating or something." Hermione frowned and looked down. Been there, done that. She looked back up at him.

"I'm surprised she cam up with that punishment."

"Yeah, she seemed a bit more careless. I thought she would have just told them off and let them skip off to their classes."

"Well, we can't assume anything about her. She may be liberal, but I think there are certain things she won't stand for."

"Did she seem angrier at Harris, to you?" The halls were frightneningly empty as everyone was in the Great Hall for lunch by now.

"Yes…I thought it was strange, given her position on the war and her own background."

"It was probably because of her background that she was angrier. It was appropriate to give him a good punishment, too. He can't fight every time someone insults him.

"Maybe…" Hermione bit her lip and looked down. The next few moments lapsed in silence.

"You should wear blue more often." Confused, Hermione stopped in her tracks. That definitely came from left field.

"O-okay…" He stopped and turned to face her. "Malfoy, you've been acting really strange, lately."

"Have I?" He asked, an amused smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Yes. First that day in the hall, and then last night…and now that comment. What are you playing at?" Malfoy sauntered up to her, his smirk dangerously lustful.

"Well, Hermione," he took a strand of her hair in his hand and twirled it around his finger. "I've only been picking up the pieces of what's left of you." Hermione didn't know what to say to that. She recoiled and slapped his hand away.

"I'm not one of your little sluts, Malfoy. If you're feeling randy, you have enough money in your bank account to pay for it."

"I don't know why you try so hard to resist me, Granger." He backed her into the wall. "It's obvious that you _want_ something to happen. You _want_ an excuse to leave him. You _want_ to cause him as much pain as he caused you." He dragged his finger along her cheek. "Of course, you remember how much more enjoyable _our_ unions can be." She slapped his hand away again.

"That was a long time ago, Malfoy! I was stupid and young and I didn't know what I wanted then."

"But now you know that you don't want Weasley. He isn't for you. He can't handle the real you. The smart, bossy, powerful, dangerous you that loved it when I threw you up against the wall and ravaged you until you couldn't walk straight." She tightened her legs and leaned her head against the walls. She was doing just what he wanted-- reliving old memories.

"Malfoy, stop it."

"We're alone now, Hermione. I told you never to call me that when we're alone." She closed her eyes and swallowed—bad mistake on her part. Malfoy took the opportunity to press his lips and body against hers, wrapping his arms around her waist to pull her closer. When he started to get needier, he opened his robes and pulled her hands inside. Hermione gasped, allowing him access to her mouth as he guided her hands over his growing erection. She broke the kiss and snatched away from him.

"I-I can't."

"Even after what he's done to you?" Hermione looked down at her feet.

"You chose that idiot over me, and I've forgiven you. You did it because he was losing it. Marrying him was the only way you thought he would regain some control of his life. You only succeed in giving him control over yours." Hermione shook her head.

"I love him—"

"You _loved_ him—and I'm not sure if it was even that. And although there was only lust between us, that's leagues better than what you have with him now." Hermione was silent for a while, letting all of it sink in. While she was lost in her thoughts, Malfoy was about to make another move. Suddenly, her heart began to race and her breathing became erratic. What was she to do? When he leaned in again, did the only thing she could think of—the most immature thing possible.

She ran.

Ahh! Another chapter complete, another chapter to write. Yeah, so, if you likey, Review! If you don't…I'll be sad…


	6. Against The Grain

A/N: Sorry it's been so long since I've updated... but have you ever tried to build a 3d model, environment, and texture in under three weeks? I was goign through hell-- and I even started early. Needless to say, I've been extremely busy, but taht isn't enough to stop me from posting to my wonderful few faithful readers! Thanks again for giving this story a chance! Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone or anything but Naima...

Chapter Six: Against the Grain

Naima stood at the Head of the table, looking down at all of her pupils, smiling. She was wondering how they would take the news of the uniform change. Hopefully, they would be just as ecstatic as she was. So when she announced the vote for colors, the entire Great Hall erupted in whispers—which, hilariously, was not limited to just the students.  
"Naima! Are you sure?"  
"There must be a rule against this!"  
"Wow…this is going to be fun!" At least the reaction wasn't hands down bad. Many of the female students seemed excited, but there were still some who had looks of disgust on their faces. Others just gaped.  
"I'm sure that this must be an exciting announcement. And, of course, I will respect the wishes of both students and faculty. There will be a vote, and only one vote per person. Should the majority rule for a uniform change, the option to wear black is still open and the vote for color choice amongst the departments would be held.  
"The vote will start tomorrow night at 6pm. And don't try to trick the pot or you might get a surprise!" she winked and laughed heartily. "Oh, and I would also like to mention that if I catch any more fist fighting amongst students, I can come up with some rather nasty punishments. So, be good, and don't forget to vote!" She grinned and took a seat. The animated chatter in the hall didn't die down until the children and professor left for their lessons.  
Once she had finished eating, Naima left the table for her office. As soon as she was outside the Great Hall, she was bombarded by a mob of students.  
"Are you really going to change the uniforms?" asked a male fifth-year.  
"Can you really do that?" came the voice of a bouncing Hufflepuff girl.  
"Can we pick which colors?" Another girl, from Slytherin was grinning from ear to ear.  
"The colors will be limited to your house colors. However, they may be any shade of that color, if you want. Of course, I haven't finished drawing up the plans, and the uniform change is not required, nor will be in effect until next term. If you have anymore questions…"  
"This is so COOL!" The Hufflepuff grinned. "Why didn't they do this a long time ago?"  
"But won't the Board of Governors be angry about this?"  
"They can't tell me how to run the school, young man. So, please, tell me your names."  
"Heather Klopsy!" The Hufflepuff said.  
"Marcus Keen," claimed the boy.  
"Margaret Black." Naima smiled down at all of them and nodded.  
"You three can be the committee on the project. I needed some students to let me know what the rest of the student population really thinks about the change."  
"You mean spy?" Ms. Black smirked.  
"No," Naima sighed exasperatedly, "…not spy. Just let me know if they have any questions or anything. I'd love to know."   
"No problem!"  
"You can count on us!" Heather waved as the three walked away.

"Enlisting the help of children, are we?"  
"Why are you always hanging around? Don't you have lessons to plan?"  
"Nope… all done for this month."  
"Then what do you want?"  
"I just want to talk, Mistress." Naima narrowed her eyes.  
"About what?" she asked as she started towards her office.  
"You really aren't the most accessible person." Naima chose not to respond to that one. "You really should learn to lighten up."  
"Oh really? Most here would consider me to be a little too easy going."  
"Well, I'm not most. Besides, I like that mischievous grin you rewarded us when you made the announcement." Naima stopped and turned to face him. His cerulean eyes were dancing wildly and a small smirk played on the corners of his mouth.  
"You're not hitting on me, Zabini." She said flatly. It wasn't a question: it was a statement.  
"Oh, why would you say something like that, Headmistress?"  
"Don't play coy with me. Your charm won't work on me. If there's something you want , spit it out. Don't lube me up with your sweet nothings." She normally wouldn't be so bold around anyone here, but she found that she could be as uncouth and rude when speaking with the mischief-maker.  
"I've already mentioned that I'd get fired if I actually told you. Besides, I've never needed any lube to get the job done." Naima blinked in surprise. She was hoping that her lewd remarks would scare him off. She should have anticipated that he would only take the bait.  
"Don't you have somewhere you ought to be, Zabini?"  
"You always instigate this game of cat and mouse and then you run away with your tail between your legs when it gets a bit heavy. You need someone to knock the cobwebs off; you know, dust every now and then." And Naima was utterly shocked, then. When he saw that he had caught her off guard again, he couldn't suppress a grin.  
"You should close your mouth, Headmistress." He said, giving her the dirtiest glance of which she had ever been on the receiving end. And with that, he walked off, cool as ever.  
Naima was left standing there, mouth agape. What the hell was that? Why was he being so flirtatious just now? And why was she getting so warm?

Naima woke the next morning to a strange, shrill sound. Annoyed, she tossed the sheets and blankets off her legs and stood. Groggily making her way to the steps that led downstairs to her office, she noticed the erratic sound rising and falling, almost drowning out the sound of rustling paper.  
Naima made her way down, yawning and scratching her side. What the hell was all the commotion so early in the morning? Why the hell was anyone in her office at this time? Surely, if anyone did, the English would be respectful enough to wait until a decent hour before calling.  
When she made it to her office, she was shocked to find hundreds of owls hooting and darting back and forth, messing up her papers and leaving droppings all over her floors. Angry, she shouted, "Silencio!" The noise immediately died and the birds settled a bit. Glaring at them accusatorily, she made her way to the one nearest her and bit out a set of instructions. "Alright, everyone. Line up and show me some leg. There's got to be a good reason why you've got me up so early."

About an hour and a half later, Naima was sick of reading all of the letters. Most of them were from apprehensive or downright disgruntled parents who were concerned about the uniform change. After conjuring some food for the owls, she organized the letters alphabetically and made a mental note to personally write each and everyone of them back. It would take days, but she was keen on personally reassuring them.  
"Seems like you have quite a mess on your hands." Naima looked up to see her Pa-Pa's eyes glittering merrily at her.  
"Oh, no gloating! I'm going to go insane writing all these people back."  
"You don't have to write everyone. You could just work on convincing those who are only slightly apprehensive about it."  
"I could…but I want those against me to know that I appreciate their opinions as well. If I can reach them, I'm sure I can win a few hearts over." Her grandfather seemed lost in thought.  
"Perhaps."  
"Besides! You know me: I love stirring up trouble!"  
"I can only imagine what the Board of Governors will do."  
"Oh, I'm sure they'll be here any moment." Naima waved him away. Just then, a house elf, Blinky, she thought it's name was, popped in and curtsied.  
"The Board of Governers is here to see you Headmissus," Naima smirked and conjured a stack of papers over to her.  
"Please, let them in, Blinky."  
"Yes, missus."  
"You really do seem to enjoy your fair share of mischief."  
"Call it a familial trait."

"Good afternoon, Mr. Cullings, Monsier Buvet, Madame Galante, and Senior Guillemen. I trust you had a safe journey, today?"  
"What is the meaning of this!" The old woman with gray hair stormed up to her and shoved a Daily Prophet paper in her face.  
"The media knew about this before I did." She huffed. "Imagine waking to hundreds of owls screeching and defecating on your priceless furniture. I thought we were clear that if there were any mess-ups…"  
"Mess- ups? No, no, Madame. Please, have a seat while I conjure some tea." And Naima brought out her wand—something that she rarely did in front of anyone, and conjured a nice table set for five.  
"Blinky," she called. Almost immediately, a house-elf popped out of nowhere.  
"Yes, Missus?"  
"Please alert the elves that the Board of Governors will be joining us for dinner."  
"Yes, Missus," the ugly but sweet little thing tipped its head and curtsied right before it disappeared with a pop.  
"You aren't going to woo us with your charm, Dumbledore." Madame Galante seemed to be the head of the Board.  
"I wasn't intending on doing that at all, Madame Galante. In fact, I was only hoping in making you much more comfortable as you give your opinion on my first project."  
"First?" She was absolutely scandalized.  
"Yes, Madame. But you were going to give me your reason why the uniforms should remain black."  
"Why, yes! For tradition if nothing else! I can't believe you would have the audacity to come here and change things that have a history older than your bloodline!"  
"Older than my bloodline, Madame? It isn't in anyone's best interest to begin discussing bloodlines. But to answer your position of upholding tradition, it isn't enough to keep me from changing my mind."  
"Excuse me?"  
"I only think this change will bring some more spirit into this school. The darkness of England's history is hidden in these walls and I plan to flush it out. It is, in a word, depressing. I feel like everyone's still in mourning sometimes. And while I am all for upholding tradition when able, Madame, these kids need something else to occupy their time.  
"How many here have lost parents, siblings, and friends to the war? How many are still indirectly affected by it today? Now is a time to move forward. I plan on bringing life back to Hogwarts. I intend to create a happy atmosphere for our children to thrive. I'm not talking about dismantling the House organization or pacifying our children with too much free time or anything like that. I only want them to be able to express themselves in any way they want while adhering to most of the rules that have already been laid down by our Four Founders." Silence ensued.  
"Seems like you already had a speech prepared for us." Said Monsieur Buvet.  
"No, it's what I truly feel. I am very passionate about this, and I I have already outweighed the good and bad that comes with these small changes. Regardless, the choice is in the hands of the students, now. I have already made the announcement and there will be a vote tomorrow night."  
"You really won't budge on this?"  
"No, I will not. I think the children deserve a small treat. And regardless of what the result is, the children will wear their black uniforms until next term and will still have the option to wear black."  
"What about the jewelry policy?"  
"I will not change that for the simple fact that body adornment can get in the way when doing potions." Madame Galante seemed to calm down a bit after hearing that one.  
"Now, is there anything else you wanted me to cover?" she asked. Everyone was silent.  
"You said there were more plans?" Monsieur Buvet asked.   
"I don't know whether or not I feel like employing them, but I can assure you that Hogwarts will continue to offer the best magical education in the known world and I can assure you that none of he changes will affect the education received here. In fact, they just might improve it. However, I realize that having left you out on my plans may have put you off. I do not wish to clash heads with you, Governors, I know that you have been here much longer and know more about this school than anyone alive. I want to work with you, include you on the various things I plan on doing at Hogwarts.  
I intend to, from now on, include you in all of my plans. Each and every one of you will have your say as I find that I cannot do everything on my own and having other minds increases our success in creating the best learning environment for England's children." The Madame was still bristling with anger, but the rest seemed placated by her words.  
"That is acceptable." Nodded Monsieur Buvet.  
"Very well, then, I have these concerned parents to attend to, if you do not mind." She nodded. They all said a stiff goodbye before being led out of her office by a perplexed house elf.  
Monsieur Buvet hesitated just outside the door.  
"Perhaps the England air isn't agreeing with you. You seem a bit pale." Namia immediately blushed. "Yes, I have been coming down with a little something."  
"No matter, it isn't something magic can't cure. Be sure to keep up with your health you don't want to have succeeded in keeping your job just to lose it to a simple sickness." Naima was grateful for the concern.  
"Thank you, Monsieur Buvet."  
"You may call me Peter."  
"Very well, then Peter, you may call me Naima." He nodded.  
"We will be in contact with you soon. Good day." Naima turned back to the large stack of papers on her desk.

"Still at it, I see." Naima looked up just as Zabini stepped through the door with his hands around the collars of to frumpy-looking boys. Naima sat back in her chair and put down her quill.  
"Of course, Professor. Is there anything I can help you with?"  
"Always, Headmistress." He sat the two boys down in the chairs in front of her desk and stood between them.  
"I caught these two trying to sneak into the girl's bathroom on the third floor." Naima closed her eyes and rubbed her brows.  
"The girl's bathroom?"  
"Moaning Myrtle's." Naima gave him a look that indicated that she had no idea what he was talking about, so he elaborated.  
"It's a bathroom generally avoiding by the student population. So at first, I thought these boys were trying to sneak a peek. But then I thought that if there were no girls, what would they be doing in the room? I followed them and found a little setup in the bathroom."  
"Setup?"  
"They have been brewing a very dangerous potions on their spare time, it would seem." She looked at the boys who seemed to be no older than fifteen. Unremarkable, they were, and she could only hazard a guess as to what it was they were brewing."  
"What sorts of potions, Professor?" She asked, but the one on the right, with his red hair wild and his grey eyes wide broke out in a sweat.  
"I swear I was going to turn it in for extra credit! I wasn't going to use it on anyone!"  
"Y-yeah! I was just going to see what it smelled like to me."  
"VERY dangerous love potions, Headmistress." Naima stood and planted her hands on the desk, leaning forward, alternately staring into the eyes of the little pipsqueaks.  
"I'll have none of this in my school. Putting someone under a love enchantment robs them of their own free will and makes you no better than a Death Eater who's wand happy with his Unforgivables!" The boys visibly paled. Even Zabini seemed a little shocked.  
"You have detention until the end of next month, understood?"  
"Yes, Headmistress Dumbledore." the chimed in unison.  
"I want you to go back to your dormitories and think about what is that you were about to do. Do you know what that is boys?"  
"No, Headmistress."  
"It's a little something called enslavement. Something that's generally condemned in our time. Do you know what we call it in America if any sexual acts have been peformed?" Zabini's mouth hung open while the boys' eyes rounded like saucers.  
"We call it rape. Would you like to consider yourselves rapists, boys?" They shook their heads violently.  
"I would never…"  
"We would never…"  
"Then you must understand that forcing anyone to drink a love potion is very cowardly." She glared down the bridge of her nose at them. "I want 10 feet of parchment on the controversy surrounding love potions with excerpts of victims accounts and feelings about it. I want it one week from today."  
"Yes, Headmistress Dumbledore."  
"I trust you confiscated all of the ingredients, Professor." Zabini quickly closed his mouth and nodded.  
"Then the two of you may leave." They were gone in the blink of an eye. Naima turned back to her letters, curling her quill to create that tiny, neat little script of hers.  
"Don't you think you were a little harsh?"  
"I've been getting that a lot lately."  
"Might I inquire as to what incited your ire so?"  
"Speak English, Zabini."  
"Why were you so angry? It was just a love potion."  
"We don't consider it 'just a love potion' where I'm from. It's a criminal offense. Wizards there love to use it on unsuspecting Muggles. Some tried to slip me one once. It's cowardly and offensive. I want them to know how wrong it is to place anyone under any enchantment that bends their free will."  
"You're strange you know that."  
"Tell me something I don't know."  
"What are you so bitter about?" Naima's quill slid across the parchment, marring her beautiful letter. Frowning, she grabbed her carnelian stone.  
"First Malfoy, now you. Can't handle a woman with a little bite?"  
"I can handle you just fine, princess." Naima snorted.  
"Then what are you so offended by? The fact that I don't melt over your accent like your fourth years?" Zabini leaned back in his chair and crosses his arms.  
"Ouch."  
"Ouch? Did I bruise your ego? Didn't think myself capable."  
"Okay, what's gotten your knickers in a twist?" He observed her.  
Her skin was flushed, her brow forming beads of sweat. She seemed completely unaware of her physical state and he wondered if she just wasn't used to the weather here. He almost chose to ignore it, however. Most women didn't want to hear a guy tell them when they looked like they were sick, i.e. shit.   
"Let's steer clear of any conversation concerning my knickers, please." Naima pulled out some fresh parchment and proceeded to copy the letter she'd just messed up. Zabini got up and strode over to her and stood over her shoulder. After reading her letter, he felt a twinge of pity.  
"Are you alright? You seem a bit pink. You aren't getting sick, are you?"  
"Are you still here, Zabini?" Blaise smiled and clamped his hands down on her shoulder and proceeded to massage her.

Naima's first reaction was to knee him in the baby-makers when she felt him touch her, but once his hands started applying pressure in just the right places and kneading her tense muscles, she all but melted.  
Letting the quill slide out of her hand, she closed her eyes and dropped her head, knowing that Zabini was probably grinning from ear to ear. Massages had always been her weakness. Especially when they--  
She let out a slow sigh. He had started on the muscles near her spine, working his way down her back, kneading and rubbing with firm pressure. Of course, he wasn't as good as the professionals, but for an amateur he was amazing. As he continued his ministrations, she wondered when it was alright for anyone-- let alone him-- to touch her. She had always been a fairly private person, never hugging or touching anyone. And she absolutely abhorred any kind of affectionate touching in public areas. This was why she always turned down any massages from her coworkers and opted for the cold detachment of the spas.  
As he moved his way back up her spine and to her shoulders again, she bit back another sigh. There was no need to hear her exhaling like that-- he would no doubt make something of it. When he finished, he leaned down to whisper in her ear, "As much as I enjoyed that, I daresay it would have been much more enjoyable for the both of us if you didn't have a blouse on." Naima blushed and leaned forward so he was no longer so close to her. She looked up to her Grandfather's portrait, relieved that he had run off on some errand. The rest of the portraits were looking down at them, completely scandalized. Naima cleared her throat.  
"Right, er…thank you." Zabini leaned back and looked down at her, smiling mischievously because she was unaware that this position awarded him such a wonderful view of her assets.  
"Well, I'm off to class, Headmistress. If there's anything you need, you know where I'll be." Naima swallowed hard and then nodded, watching him go. When the door closed behind him she slumped down in her chair and covered her face with her robes. She couldn't believe what had transpired. Had she been so lonely that she would actually allow someone-- Zabini in particular-- to get the best of her?

Dinner that night went exceptionally well. She had to alert her Prefects and Heads of an upcoming meeting, smiling as people darted back and forth between a charmed pot that collected their votes. Once or twice, she saw the pot spit a vote back out and slap the student in the head. She inwardly snickered. She told them not to trick the pot. When she sat down to eat, she was surprised to find Zabini sitting beside her. Was he sitting a little too close or was it in her mind?  
"Good evening Professor."  
"Good evening Headmistress." He said, looking out amongst the crowd. She sighed and magicked her favorite foods onto her plate. Zabini stared at her, eyebrows raised.  
"I don't believe I've ever seen you perform magic."   
"I tend to refrain from displays of ability. Unless of course, it is necessary." Zabini nodded.  
"Are you going to attend the Quidditch game this Saturday." Now it was her brows that shot up to her hairline.  
"Of course." He nodded. Naima was starting to get a small chill and she shuddered as the wind picked up. She looked ahead to see if anyone was taking notice. She sighed and folded her hands. They were startlingly red-- almost as is she had been washing them in hot water. She had been so busy all day, she had forgotten to take her medicine.  
"You aren't getting sick, are you, cara mia?"  
"Maybe." she answered before returning to her plate, loading it up with meats. If she didn't satisfy her appetite, something bad might happen. Zabini looked down at her hands, frowning. Naima grabbed the carnelian stone and silently prayed she could hold out until the end of dinner. Using a bit of wandless magic, she performed a slight concealment charm. It wouldn't be hard for someone with half an iota of intelligence to see her skin and put two and two together.  
"Cara, if you're not feeling well, maybe you should retire?" Naima looked over to him and a feeling so strong settled over her. She was beginning to operate on her base instincts. If she wanted to keep her job, she would haul ass as long as she was still listening to the voice of reason.  
"I think I will. I am so sorry to leave so early."  
"Don't worry about it." Even Hermione seemed concerned. "We'll have some food sent up to you."  
Naima bowed and left quickly, all but sprinting back to her office. As she ran up the moving stairs and burst through the office door, and up the spiral of steps to her private bedroom, she nearly knocked over everything on her desks to get to the half-open cupboard. Gulping down half her stores, she only settled when the potion began to take its effect several minutes later, her bronze skin returning. Naima sighed and laid back down on her bed and closed her eyes.  
"That was a close one."  
"You need to stay on top of your health, granddaughter. I don't want the enchantment to take its full effect. I don't know how we'll bring you back without having to involve someone else." Naima closed her mind to the world and emptied her thoughts one by one.  
"We will find her, Grandfather, and when we do, we will kill her. I can't go on like this. I just can't."  
"I know, sweetheart. Get some rest." Naima didn't even bother to take off her clothes as she curled herself into a tiny ball and succumbed to a peaceful rest.

When Naima showered the next morning, she couldn't stop staring at the silly-looking carnelian stone tied to her neck by a simple leather string. It was funny that it was what had kept her from her own insanity all these years. It was almost an intrinsic part of her now. Like another appendage of her body-- an arm or leg, perhaps. Naima held her face under the showerhead.  
Although she knew that the stone was nearly a part of her, she couldn't wait to berid of it and everything it had to do with anything. She would never want to see another one in her life. And she would not, WOULD NOT, bear a child just to rid herself of this familial curse. She would bear this burden until she could find the witch who had cast it or it would die with her. She would never want to force it onto her child.  
Naima shut off the water and grabbed her towel as she stepped out of the shower. She dried of her hair the muggle way and then stepped up to the mirror, wiping a streak of the fog away. Looking into the mirror she was unimpressed by what she saw. Although her face was often claimed to be one of exotic beauty, she was never once convinced. Underneath this shallow layer of skin was a monster and she would flush it out-- one way or another.   
Naima took the comb to her hair and watched as it conformed into the tiny ringlets typical of the strands. She was a monster, and nothing but the death of that witch would change a damned thing about it.

Another chapter complete! Yay! I have a shit-ton of work I have to do this week, so I won't be posting any time soon. But after that I have a 1 1/2 month holdiay! Yay! I'll be writing, working, and painting my arse off this christmas (and they will all be gifts to family members 'n' stuuuuuufffff. But you guys will defnitely enjoy more chapters. Hell, I might even write a celebratory two in one two weeks from now. But yeah. If you guys like the story, please encourage me to go on. Your reviews help me out a lot and point out what's wrong or right with the story so I can make it more enjoyable for you. But I wanted to tease you with this

-there will be many more Draco/Hermione scenes... wink, wink, nudge, nudge

- You will learn about the twi's histories

-Naima begins her research into the Berserker enchantment.

-Naima and Blaise get better acquianted ;) 


	7. Trepid

Hmm… I keep dividing up the scenes and stuff, but every time I post them, they disappear. So do my indentations and all that. Ah, well. I'll try working some magic in the editor on the site. It's rather annoying to abide by all the rules only to see them go out the window once you post. Anyways. Thanks everyone who's reviewed… it's really a lot of help, and it's encouraging. So…here we go! 

Chapter Seven: Trepid

Naima sat down in her office the next evening, going over some books she'd picked up over the summer. Tales of all sorts surrounded the berserker enchantment, some realistic while others… "Fish scales for skin?" She shook her head. Something told her not to pick up anything muggle for this sort of research. She politely turned the book down on the table and made a mental note to burn it later. "Pa-Pa," Naima called to the portrait. The image of her grandfather immediately shook out of his bout of snores and looked up at her sleepily.

"What is it, dear? I was just in the midst of a dream about a purple tortoise and unicorn. It was quite interesting…" "Which family member was inflicted with the curse?" She felt as though she was being terribly rude, but she didn't have the patience to listen to him go on and on about some silly dream. Did portraits even dream? Never mind that…

"Ah… that would be Aliel Dumbledore."

"And Azurea, the dark witch of her time cast the berserker enchantment on her to ensure that she would…what exactly?"

"How many time do we have to go through with this?"

"I'm sorry grandfather. It just doesn't make any sense. I mean, honestly. Why would you cast a Berserker on someone to control them. No good can come of that enchantment, every witch or wizard knows this. Even the evil ones. If Azurea would do something like that and end up with the upper hand, why didn't Voldemort?"  
"

Voldemort? Are you on that one, again?" Another portrait had been pulled from his slumber, and Naima suddenly became too frustrated to even elaborate.

"My dear, I agree with you, but this tale has been passed on for generations."

"Yes, but aren't all tales twisted after a few hundred years? Grandfather, none of these people are even alive to…"

"You question your great-great…"

"It isn't that I question her account. Only the one that told the tale after her. And the one after that. Do you understand what I mean, grandfather? How can we even prove that these words came from Aliel? It just doesn't seem right. The Berserker is too…it's too unpredictable."

"Azurea was seeking to destroy Aliel's image."

"Yes, I suppose your right, but it still doesn't add up. Something doesn't add up."

"I wish I had thought more on this when I was alive dear. But being that my mother only had sons, we thought the curse would die out with her." "Boy, were you guys wrong." "Yes, well. We had no idea." He barely whispered this last part.

"Oh, I'm not blaming you, grandfather." Naima dropped her head to her desk.

"I know dear. But now, we have to live with the knowledge that I have. I cannot aid you. All I can do is spy and I am sure that no one here will be whispering about Azurea."

"I know, grandfather. I'm all on my own."

"This is a heavy burden for you."

"Nowhere near as heavy as Potter's, was. I am only one girl, grandfather."

"You have no idea how significant you are. If not for your curse, then for your blood. You are a Dumbledore. Your magic is…"

"I know grandfather." Naima mumbled in a tight voice. Albus was silent for a while. What was he to say? To do?  
When Naima began to sniffle, he could feel his heart breaking all over again. What could he do? "Sometimes, I wish… I wish you were still here, grandfather."

"I am still here."

"No…this painting is only a shadow of what you are, Pa-Pa. If you were really here, you would have hugged me." She looked up, her eyes red-rimmed, moist, and threatening to erupt in tears. She was nearing her time for her daily dosage, but she thought she had another good hour in her before she truly needed it.

"I wish I could, Naima. But you understand that my death was to…"

"I know why you died."

"No, you don't."

"Why, grandfather-- why did you leave me here to do this all on my own?" Albus looked down at his hands. He was silent for a while, thinking about how he was going to say this.

"I died in order to rescue a soul from the depths of hell, Naima."

"What?" she croaked.

"The boy was young, too young to realize that he was being poisoned by his own blood. Saving him is what helped us win this war. My life was worth it, Naima. I have already lived  
many lifetimes, and so has your father." Naima looked away.

"My life was worth saving that boy and the world." It was always so hard hearing this: that someone else was worth so much more to him. Her grandfather was all she had in this world, and when he died, he took nearly all of her with him.

"Who?" she whispered.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Who was worth it, grandfather? You said that he was worth your life, the life of perhaps the greatest wizard that ever lived. Who was worth so much?" Albus swallowed before he answered. She would hate him forever for this, but he could hold the truth from her no longer.

Albus stared into her glistening eyes, replaying his happiest memories he shared with her when she was a child: riding a bike, making mud pies, eating birdseed-- she was more than just a granddaughter. When times were dark and he had nearly lost all hope, she was his very soul. Hearing this would rip her apart, but he could blind her to the truth no longer. "Draco Malfoy."  
,

"What the hell do you want, now, Malfoy?" Hermione was just finishing up with the last Transfiguration class for the day.

Packing her books into her satchel, she turned her back to him, hoping that he would go away.

"Just stopping by to say hello." But of course, she was never spared any such mercy.  
Hermione turned around and plastered on the most horrendously plastic smile she could muster. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your warm company, Professor?" She waited until the last of her children left Her fake smile immediately fell, replaced by frown.

"I wish I could get you alone more often. Lord knows that I never guessed that you'd be so… welcoming."

"Enough with the niceties. What the hell do you want?" Draco closed the door and stepped further into the class, looking around at some of the students' work. They were apparently trying to turn kneazles into boots-- or the other way around. Whatever they were doing, they were vastly unsuccessful.

Draco raised an eyebrow at Hermione. How could she just stand there while the animals were half transfigured? It seemed a bit too cruel for her. In turn, Hermione rolled her eyes and then waved her wand in two separate actions. On the first, the animals turned back to their original state, on the second, they were all locked inside a little cage. She flicked her wand once again and they and the cage shrunk to fit in her hand.

"I really am busy right now. Why don't you run along? Oh and lock up for me? My hands are full." She made to push past him, but Draco blocked her path.

"Let me go, Malfoy."

"You know, I don't really get you. One moment, you're all over me--"

"All over you? You're the one that attacked me the other night."

"Attacked?" Draco's mouth hung open. "I don't remember you complaining when my hand was up your skirt." Hermione's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.

"I thought so." He said, moving further into her classroom. "We need to talk."

"There's nothing to talk about. You took advantage of me when I was…"

"How dare you stand there and say that. After what we did? After what he had?"

"That was years ago, Draco. Get over yourself." She adjusted the satchel on her shoulder. "It's like what the Headmistress said. It's time to move forward." He couldn't let her walk  
away. Not after that. "I suppose the other night might have been a mistake. I might have caught you at a time of desperation." Hermione turned around and nodded.

"That's right."

"Then I suppose last week was a mistake, too." he could see her begin to crumble. "And the week before that, and the time before that and all those times we've FUCKED since the beginning of term, Hermione." She jumped, dropping her books and the cage.

"Well, I'm saying that it's over, now. I can't hate my husband for cheating on me while doing the very same thing behind his back."

"Is that what this is about, really? You afraid of what your husband-- who's too pissed drunk to even remember that you have a vagina-- will do?" Hermione had to resort to the use of foul language.

"F-fuck you, Malfoy. I can't believe the nerve you have." She balled her hands into tiny little fists and glared at him. "I have never been more to you than that mudblood girl that always hung around Potter and Weasley. You don't care about me like he does. You've never cared about me."

"I've never cared for you?" He shouted, causing Hermione to jump again. "I may not claim love, but even when all we had was a few stolen moments in a broom closet I never even looked at another woman sideways. Can your husband say the same?"

"Ah, so nice to see you on this lovely eve, Prof-- what's wrong?" Blaise was in the halls, about to go and pick on his favorite subject when she came storming out of her offices, cheeks flushed.

"Not now, Zabini." She continued her way through the halls, a dangerous glint in her eyes.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to go find that disgusting prick."

"Who?" he fell in step behind her.

While Blaise thought she was adorable when she was angry, there was a dangerousness to her that frightened him a little. Although he never feared any little girl, she was a Dumbledore.

"Malfoy." She was jogging down the steps, now, pushing through the endless throngs of students. He fought to keep up with her, wondering what the hell she was so angry about. He'd been around the bloke all day, and he was sure that he hadn't done anything.

"Naima, what are you…" he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the Bloody Baron walk through the walls.

"He wasn't worth it. No one that sick is worth it…" he heard her mutter.  
As they pushed past the last group of students, he dragged her into a deserted classroom. She struggled against him, and she nearly broke free before he closed the door, but he pulled out his wand on her, and she was forced to settle.

"Great. Now that I have your attention--"

"I told you I don't have time to deal with you, Zabini." Her breathing was hard and shallow.

"Calm down."

"Get out of my way." she hissed.

"Not until you calm down."

"So is this it? You protect the bastard, too? I suppose so, him being your best friend." Blaise started to lower his wand, making on of the biggest mistakes of his life.  
In an instant, Naima had her wand drawn, it's ebony eleven and a half inches fully exposed. She seemed as though she might spout fire. "I suggest you move out of my way, Zabini. I may not do magic often, but oh do I know how to use my wand."

"I don't know what you heard tonight, but this isn't the way to deal with your grief." He opened his mouth to continue his speech when a single word shot from her own, pulling his wand to the other end of the room, and upending his world.

"Now, I warned you, Zabini." In an instant, she had him pinned to the wall, wand at his throat.

"Naima, you must calm down." Just saying those words seemed to piss her off even more.

"He isn't worth it. He was never worth it. Not him." She shook her head, tears spilling from her eyes.  
Great, not only did he have a determined Dumbledore on his hands, but an emotional one. "No, he wasn't. Not at the time, he wasn't. But you must respect your grandfather's wishes." She winced and pushed the wand into his throat.

"How dare you, say that. Take it back."

"You can accuse me of many things, cara, but I would never lie to you." She didn't move, but she didn't curse him to the depths of hell, either. "I'm not your enemy, innamorato." Her eyes cut to his. He had never seen such emotion. "Put down your wand." She started to shake her head.

"That is none of your business. What my husband and I do is never any of your business, you god damned prick!" she cocked her hand back and slapped him with all her might. She waited for his reaction, and when none was forthcoming, she made to slap him again, but he caught her by the wrist.

"I'll let that slide."

"I want you out of my room and out of my life."

"Pushing me away isn't going to make things any better with him, Hermione. You know that."

"What do you want from this? What do you think we have that's so fucking…" she searched for the right word, "precious?"

"Tell me what's so great about a relationship with him, then." He watched her as she leveled her smoldering eyes on him. "You can't answer that, can you?"  
Hermione desperately wanted to say something- anything to save herself from what she was about to do. She knew it was coming. He knew it was coming. It was like clockwork. He would come in, get pushy about her and Ron, and they would end up rutting like animals.

"I don't…"

"Just shut the fuck up, Granger." His voice was soft now, gentle. He lowered his head to kiss her on the lips. It was surprisingly gentle-- usually they were harsh, almost demanding. She just couldn't help herself-- Ron's kisses were never so… sensual. Soon, Hermione couldn't maintain her front, and she found herself giving in.

Draco immediately pounced upon the chance to guide her backwards, her surprised gasp puncturing the sound of her body being pushed into the wall. He took the moment to leave her lips and start a trail of soft kisses along her neck as Hermione bit her lip, fighting the urge to let out this tiny noise that had been dying to escape her throat. She leaned her head to the side, lightly scratching his back with her nails as he picked her up and positioned himself between her legs.

Hermione finally let out a soft moan and lifted his face so she could kiss his lips again. When he slipped his tongue in to explore her mouth, he absently began to grind his hips into hers, and she wasn't stupid enough to not figure out where this was leading. As the passion of his kiss increased, the persistent thrust of his hips grew harder and faster.  
Suddenly a tingling sensation slowly snaked through her entire body and she wondered what he did that always made her feel so...good.

Hermione's head lolled to the side and he took to kissing her neck again. "Draco...please". All she knew was that the pleasurable sensation spreading through her body couldn't end. She was growing oh so very warm and if he put her down now, Hermione was sure her legs would give from beneath her.

"Damn it, Mina," He swore as he felt the crotch of his pants getting wet. He'd so quickly forgotten that she almostvnever wore any panties underneath her long skirts, and the mere  
thought sent the last bit of blood that could be spared straight to his loins. Draco buried his head in her shoulder as his cock twitched to life. "Fuck." Hermione softly moaned his name when she felt the growing pressure against her. The succession of the things that happened next shocked her. Draco had somehow managed– between balancing her and suckling on her neck– to unbuckle his belt and let his pants slide to the floor. It took a bit more skill to lower his boxers just enough, but he managed it expertly. Her legs shook slightly as she anticipated the main event, and it was all she could do to prepare herself.

In desperation, Hermione tried to grab anything behind her and only succeeded in knocking her hand into a painting. "Oh, fuck." she swore as she clawed at his back.  
A low, guttural sound erupted from his chest as he ground into her harder and harder. Hermione resumed to bite her bottom lip although it was a matter of time before she couldn't stop moaning 'yes' again and again and again. He soon began to tease her– slowing down and speeding up, stretching her to her limit as she soon began to feel her body seizing up.  
She was getting louder and louder and it seemed like the sound of her soft cries were delighting Draco as he started to gently nibble on her shoulder. "Come on, baby," he whispered. He sped up again, and her screams loud enough to reach the halls, now. Her legs began to shake and just when she felt like she couldn't handle it anymore–

He gave one last thrust and let out a soft grunt.

Blaise was tiring of their little staring contest. He was almost ready to knock the little bint to next Wednesday. He didn't know why her grandfather would wait until now to tell her the truth, but he was damned thankful that he was here or she would have done something stupid. She would have done something that would have gotten her arrested. In all honesty, he really shouldn't care. To be honest with himself, the only reason he wasn't actively going after her job anymore was because he just wanted to get a go with her before she got the boot. Right now was the perfect opportunity to get her fired, but the prospect of getting in a good lay before she had to go was just too… delicious. So when her hand began to tire, and her arm began to buckle, he decided to wait for an opening.

"You're meddling in something that is not your affair, Zabini." He closely watched her lips. She was sure to say something else.

"I just don't want you to do anything stupid, cara."

"I'm not your bloody--" She started, but almost as soon as she opened her mouth, he knocked her wand hand down and spun her around, and pushed her face-first into the wall. She struggled against him, but he just applied a little pressure to her arm behind her back. There was no way in hell he was going to let her go before she put down her wand.

"I would stop struggling if I were you, N'ima-- you're actually doing me a favor wriggling around like that." He chuckled. She felt tiny vibrations on her back as the sound reverberated through his chest. Naima stopped fighting so hard, but she wasn't giving in that easily.

"Now, how about you put down your wand and we handle this like mature adults?"

"Why do you care, Zabini? You want my job. This is the perfect opportunity to get me fired."

"Why do I care?" He lowered his voice as he leaned in to whisper.

"I don't, not really. I just don't think it's worth it. I'm trying to make you see reason. Hurting Draco isn't going to solve your problems but create new ones. Is it really going to make you feel any better?"

"It would give me just the satisfaction that I need."

"Satisfaction that you are going to cause bodily harm to the man your grandfather died trying to save?" He waited for a reply, and when none was forthcoming, he decided to try a new route. He leaned down to whisper in her ear.

"If it's satisfaction you're looking for, I can help you out there." Violet tensed a little. They were in a classroom. His classroom. He looked down at her and grinned broadly. Home field advantage.

"Mr. Zabini, if you don't get your hands of me this instant I'll--"

"You'll do what, exactly? I don't take too kindly to threats, Ms. Dumbledore." Feels weird saying that name in such a situation. He grimaced. "Why don't we do away with the formalities, then?" He said as he ran his hand along her side.

"Stop it, Zabini." She wasn't even convincing herself with that.

"So we're playing that game, eh?" He asked as he lowered his head and kissed her softly on the neck. She absently tensed a little. This sort of thing hadn't happened to her in a very long time.

"Relax, N'ima." He stroked her hair and began to lick her pulse point.

"How," she started, surprised at how breathless she sounded. "how am I supposed to relax while you're doing that?" He pressed her body flat against the wall with his.

"Zabini…"

"Blaise," he corrected as his hand lightly caressed her back and trailed down to her bottom. He gave it a gentle squeeze, drawing a small gasp from her. He chuckled and then spun her around. She was completely flushed. He'd never seen brown skin get so red, but he truly liked the effect.

She was panting, her chest rising and falling, drawing his gaze to her breast. "Blaise…we shouldn't." She said. He looked back into her eyes and smirked. He leaned in for a kiss and she turned her head, gripping her wand tighter.

"I have something I have to do, and I don't want to have to hurt you." She whispered. In an instant, he had her pinned against the wall again, wand hand twisted behind her back.

"I already told you… you're not going anywhere." He pulled her wand from her hand and threw it down on the floor.  
He pulled her back into him and started kissing her neck fiercely again. It was an uncomfortable position for her, really, but the feeling he was giving her just from sucking her neck felt so good, she would put up with it until he saw fit to stop. Soon, she was melting into him, and he took that as a sign to continue his ministrations.

_ What am I doing?_

Cupping her breast with his free hand, he began to rub her nipples through her shirt eliciting a small moan from her. He moved to the other side of her neck and she brought up her hand to hold him there. They hadn't even properly kissed yet and she could already feel her panties getting wet. He moved his hand lower still and Naima bit her lip for fear that she might say something stupid. Reaching into the waist of her skirt, he pulled out her shirt and trailed his hand back up to cup her breast through her bra. She certainly was a handful, he thought with a smile.

Naima sucked in a deep breath when she felt his calloused hand on her bare skin. It was surprising that she was letting him do this to her, but for some reason she didn't want it to stop. With all the problems she faced, she never really thought about sex. Love, maybe-- but never sex. It was a subject she tended to avoid. But now that he had expertly done away with the clasp in the front, and rolled her pert nipples in between his fingers, it was all she could think about.  
Normally, Naima wouldn't have given in so easily, she thought as he left her shirt and trailed his fingers over her bare thighs. Why was she letting him do this to her? "Stop thinking about it and just feel." He said as he rubbed his fingers against her.

"So wet. And the party hasn't even properly started." He chuckled as he began to slide his fingers along the length of her sex. She didn't know what it really was, but Naima thought that being fingered from behind was definitely worth not killing Malfoy. She thought as she closed her eyes.

All blood was rushing from her head now, and what's more she felt Zabini's erection pressing into her thigh. Suddenly, he spun her around and before she could say or do anything, he kissed her fully on the mouth.

As their tongues battled, Blaise guided her back towards one of the desks in the room and once her thighs hit the sides, he hoisted her up and pulled her legs apart, gripping her by the thighs. Naima moaned into his mouth and he quickly began unbuttoning her shirt.  
Remembering herself, Naima pulled from the kiss, gasping for air, pulling his robes from his shoulders and unbuttoning his shirt. She suddenly stopped when she noticed something resting against his chest.

Tied by a simple leather strap, a bloodstone stared back at her, eyeing her, almost seeming to size her up. Naima stared hard, and it took a few moments before she noticed that Zabini had stopped as well. When their dark eyes met, she swallowed. A bloodtsone. A God damned bloodstone. They sprang apart and stared at each other.  
Naima was the first to move, searching for her wand. When she found it, she slowly moved to retrieve it. The bloodstone was the stone worn by Italian Aurors. It was a warrior stone meant to protect them from foes. A good luck charm, but one of that particular size and shape was something all of them wore-- it was a tradition dating back hundreds of years. What the hell was he really doing at Hogwarts?

She grabbed her carnelian stone and stared at him. "So…" he started. "A carnelian stone? Is that why you're always so jumpy?" Naima looked down and began to button her shirt.  
"An Auror?" She felt so betrayed. Of course she would open herself up to someone-- practically throw herself at them-- only to learn that they could be her downfall. But why would the Italian authorities be here.

"So…you were the job." Naima's eyes snapped up.

"What did you just say?"

"Your skin is red. If I know my ailments well, it's time for your next dosage." Fear gripped her heart and it nearly seized in all the terror coursing through her. She would be killed, for sure. She would be turned over to the British authorities and would probably be sent to Azkaban.

"Wait, Zabini…I…" He held up a hand and she nearly shook with fear.

_ Her grandfather wouldn't be able to get her out of this one._

Well, I hope everyone enjoyed this last chapter. It was definitely one of the hardest I had to write. It was rather difficult, writing the two sex scenes. So, if you can, please send me some reviews so I can get much better at it? I didn't want to use words like 'dick' or 'cunt' or 'vagina' for the obvious reasons… and I didn't want to use silly terms, either. I almost wish this wasn't written in English. There are so many different terms for private parts in other languages that don't sound nearly as funny as they do in English. Anyways, enough talk about that.  
I really want to thank the people who have been reviewing this story. It's really helping me to not only create a much better story for you guys here, but also gives me food for thought whenever I'm writing my own personal novels. Anyways, PLEASE, S'IL TU PLAIT, POR FAVOR, review so I can know how I'm doing.


	8. Libra

Well, for everyone who was immensely patient, waiting for me to post all of those chapters this break, I wanted to post another chapter along with the last as a special New Year's gift. Besides-- I left you guys at a very peculiar cliff hanger and I couldn't wait to post this next one.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything but Naima 

Chapter Eight: Libra

Although they were sitting in her office, she behind her desk and he in one of the less comfortable chairs before her, she felt as though she had no pull in this situation whatsoever.

Inwardly, she cursed herself for being so stupid, stupid enough to get caught by the _Italian_ authorities. They were much more severe in their punishments than the British and they had a strange form of bureaucracy that left foreigners dizzy and disoriented. They were not as straightforward as the British, and they were certainly less forgiving. She didn't doubt that Zabini would turn her over in a heartbeat-- no matter what happened between them only a few minutes ago.

She politely offered him tea and gestured to the many jars of goodies on her table. If she wanted, she could use a memory charm on him-- she was rather good at them. It wasn't as if she'd never had to use them before, of course.

But those were random witches and wizards on the street, none quite as notable as those from the Zabini family. She looked out of the window and waited for him to talk. She didn' want to start rattling off at the mouth before he said anything. So, he knew she was under the Berserker Enchantment, but exactly _how_ much did he know? What did he want?

If he was going to arrest her or call in for the authorites, he would have done so the moment they left that room. Instead, there was a pensive expression on his face. One that gave her if only the slightest bit of hope. She watched him out of the corner of her eyes until he cleared his throat.

Zabini pulled a cigarette case from his robes. "Do you mind," he asked. Naima shook her head. He pulled out a cigarette and with a small wave of her hand, the end of the cigarette lit. "Interesting." Naima shrugged and took a sip from her tea.

"Well, it's like this, Dumbledore." In the moment he spoke her name, he knew this was strictly business. What did he want.

"A few years back, a few girls went missing from the Italian Ministry." He paused to take a long drag. "We thought it was a simple missing women's report. Until we found that one thing connected them."

"I've been in America since I was fifteen, and I traveled to Paris and Japan only for schooling. That's nowhere near Italy."

"You're interrupting me, cara." He said as he took another drag. "As I was saying, we thought these were individual cases until one young Auror found that these women were from some of the most powerful wizarding families in Italy."

"What does this have to do with me?"

"I'm getting to that," He said as he tapped the ashes into a conjured silver tray. Naima leaned back in her seat and listened. "These women, happen to be women very capable at wandless magics. Their family lines ran back as far as Merlin's, further still, in some cases. Do you know what they all had in common?"

"No."

"Carnelian stones." Naima absently grabbed hers from beneath her shirt.

"Now, I ask myself, 'why, in every picture provided of these women, are they all wearing carnelian stones?'" Naima swallowed as he leaned forward, excited. "Is it some sort of cult? Are they all in hiding, trying to plot something? These are extremely powerful witches. Where did they go? How could we not sense them, find them? They had guards on them at all times. They were with _people_ at all times. No one but they were missing and no one else knew anything. No one."

"So you think they're planning something."

"Why not?" He shrugged and leaned back in his seat once more. "I thought 'why wouldn't they be planning something?'"

"I thought that, until I began interviewing surrounding family and friends. People who had seen them last, people who were usually with them. I had a very long list of suspects, of people who might've done things to these women. None of the stories seemed to fit. Not one."

"But the eerie part about it, was that the stories were perfect. Too perfect, in fact. It alarmed me that these women stole away without _anyone_ seeing them. And then I found something else all these women had in common."

"You sound like a very obsessed man." Zabini glared at her. "You have no idea."

"What did you you discover?"

"All of them were _very_ adept at memory charms. Why? I ask myself. What's so important about memory charms? What's so important about carnelian stones? I researched the carnelian stone, and that is what brought me to the Berserker Enchantment."

"It has long been used as a second form of protection for those inflicted with the curse. With the proper spell, the carnelian stone served to dull the passions of the wearer should they find themselves overdue for their potion." Despite herself, Naima smiled. He certainly did his research.

"So, these women had several things in common: the carnelian stone, the pure bloodline, wandless magic. It only took me a while before I could get the families to admit to their common afflictions. With evidence, I discovered that these women all had been taking the Placidity Potion for years. How long, I asked myself. How long?" He took another drag, this time savoring it.

"Unfortunately, none of the families would give me any answers, and I found myself at a dead end. We kept the case open, seeing as how these were very important people, but we had turned to other jobs. That is, until recently."

"Recently?"

"Yes, are you familiar with the name Narcissa Malfoy?" Naima gripped the sides of her chair.

"I take I she is related to your best friend." He nodded.

"So you see why I would rush over here. Narcissa Black married into the old Malfoy bloodline, a very old bloodline that dates back centuries upon centuries. But it wasn't nearly as old as the Black family."

"Your point?"

"My point?" He chuckled. "There are only two other high-profile families in England at this point, that hail back so far-- The Parkinsons and the Weasleys. Of course, I never dreamed that there were anymore Dumbledores left, especially in England, in all places."

"And that's why you've been following me around?"

"Well, that and I figured that if you weren't the one I needed to go after, my lofty position as Headmaster here would help bring me the kind of all seeing eye that I needed." He gestured to all of the paintings of past Headmasters and Headmistresses of Hogwarts lining the walls.

"Never did I expect to find a potential victim." he smirked. "As soon as I heard that the Dumbledore at Hogwarts was indeed, female, I decided to make my mery little way over here. You fit the description of my victims almost perfectly.

"Have you forgotten that I'm not _entirely_ pure, Zabini? My mother was a muggleborn, herself…" He held up his hand.

"That is what both you and she may believe, however black Wizards and Witches from America are hard pressed to find proof of their heritage."

"How silly is that. Do you honestly think that a Wizard or Witch could have been captured by a bunch of Muggles?"

"If they were caught without their wands, yes, I find that quite possible. Stuffed on a boat with barely and food wand water for months, sitting in their own waste, I'm pretty sure their magical powers dulled. For those who did retain any sense of it when they were brought over here were unable to practice their magics or obtain magical objects in order to create new wands. And once they died, only their abilities were passed down to the next generation.

"It has been found that they intermarried with muggles. It has been found that their bloodlines have thinned greatly, but their magical abilities are there, nonetheless. It manifests every now and then, and when it does, it comes back full force. Your mother may not have been of muggle parentage, but of _squib_ parentage."

"Your point?" She repeated.

"How long, Naima? How long have you been inflicted with this curse?" Naima frowned and looked out the window.

"Let's just say my mother wore this stone when she discovered I was a girl." Naima turned to pin him with a glare. "And I wore it ever since I emerged from her womb. The placidity Potion was a part of my daily nutrition, administered in small dosages every two hours, washed down with my mother's breast milk."

"So, it _is_ passed down through women. How long did you mother…"

"Until I was born. This was her stone." She gripped it again. "My grandfather believed that the curse would end with him and his brother since there were no women to pass it along. I suppose it does not manifest within the men of the family, but it passed down through them, just as easily."

"Then shouldn't there be more with this affliction?"

"You know the rich pureblood families. They usually have no more than one or two children. The Weasleys are one of the few exceptions."

"So… all your life?" He ran a hand through his hair and let a low sigh. "That sucks." She gave him a grim smile.

"You have no idea."

"So… how did your mother get rid of it?"

"She passed it on to me. That's one of the only two ways to get rid of it."

"And the other?"

"Kill the person who first cast the charm. Once they die, so does the curse."

"But, this curse is old, from what I can tell."

"Long ago, Albus Dumbledore and Nicolas Flammel recreated the philosophers stone."

"But that was destroyed."

"Yes, that one was. The very first was created by another powerful witch. One that could create this stone all on her own."

"There was a common legend passed down through the families. There was one name, one woman that each family named." Zabini leaned in to her desk. "Does the name Azurea ring any bells?"

"What the hell have I done?" Hermione sighed as she pushed Draco off of her. He looked down at her, frowning.

"Don't act as if you haven't done it before."

"Draco… I can't keep doing this. I can't keep letting myself fall for your charms… I have a husband. I have a child on the way."

"Child on the way," He frowned.

"Don't worry: I don't think it belongs to you."

"How the hell do you know that?"

"I've been pregnant since before this started happening again." Draco sighed without even meaning to. Hermione seemed hurt by that fact. "And that fact makes me even more of a whore." She was about to storm off when he caught her by the arm again.

"Hermione, wait."

"No, Draco."

"Hermione!" He yelled. He couldn't be gentle with her this time, what he was going to say needed to be said. He grabbed her by the waist and pinned her to the wall.

"Your husband is an alcoholic and he's abusive."

"You don't know what the hell you're talking about."

"You threw your life away to save him. You threw _our_ relationship away to save him. I won't let you ruin an innocent child's life for him, as well."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't I?" He squeezed her arms a bit tighter.

"Sure, he only slaps you around a bit right now. You think you can handle yourself, but can you protect your children from him at all times?"

"He isn't abusive."

"Keep lying to yourself. But if anything happens, you can blame your own god damned self. I'll have no part of this shit." He pushed her away.

Naima took a deep breath. There was no way. There was no way in the world this was possible. To hear that this was so much bigger than her was making her nauseous. To find that there were other women out there, with her power and affliction was worrisome. She and her Grandfather had always thought that Aliel was the only one afflicted. But to find that there were several others…

"What the _hell?_" Naima frowned. Blaise put out his cigarette.

"I take it the same story has been passed on to you, as well. So tell me."

"I wear the carnelian as a second form of protection-- to curb my passions, as you said. I am adept at memory and concealment charms because I use them whenever I am discovered."

"You probably thought about using one on me." Naima didn't answer that.

"It's alright, really. I would have done the same." He stood.

"What? Wait-- where are you going?" she stood and crossed the desk.

"To the owlery. I need to inform them that I have found a witness." He started towards the door and opened it.

"A witness? Zabini, I'm not a witness."

"Would you rather be a prisoner?" He shouted. "I'm sending this in to British and Italian authorites. You'll be placed under their care."

"I won't be arrested?"

"As long as you cooperate I can guarantee that you will be pardoned."

"Even if I could trust you, how could I trust the Ministries?"

"You're a Dumbledore. You've never let the Enchantment overpower you, and you've never killed anyone. They have nothing against you."

"But Zabini…" she whined. When he looked back, there were tears in her eyes and she was shivering. He closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair again. He closed the door and stood in front of her.

"Naima," he grabbed her by the shoulders. "We will worry about everything else later. The most important thing is to keep you out of her hands. Those families may have been powerful, but they are nothing-- _nothing-- _in comparison to a Dumbledore.

"We don't know if this woman is going to do exactly what your legends says she has already done. But we certainly can't afford a bunch of Berserk witches capable of wandless magic attacking our countries." Naima was about to open her mouth to speak when he placed a finger over her lips.

"I hail from an old bloodline as well, and my mother had records in her personal library about the battles between her and other witches." Naima frowned. "Another thing that these women have in common, is that they were all _working together_."

"You think Azurea enchanted them _together_?" Zabini sighed and shrugged.

"Who knows? All we know is that there are several very powerful people missing, and you are the biggest prize of all."

Naima had a hard time falling asleep that night. It was all too much to take in. The happenings in the DADA classroom pushed far from her mind, she couldn't stop thinking about all that Zabini revealed to her. There was so much going on that she couldn't stop for once and think. Her grandfather, after hearing the entire conversation, suggested she take a sleeping draught and dreamless night potion so that she could begin to address the situation with Zabini in the morning.

There were conflicting emotions tugging at her at the moment. She was ecstatic and fearful at the same time. She now had a resource at her hands-- not only was Zabini deeply involved, but he brought both the British and Italian authorities behind him. She may be pardoned. She might be able to end this. She may get her chance to live a life free of potions and free to really _feel_ her emotions without worrying that she might kill someone.

Naima turned onto her side and clutched the satin pillow in her hand. She just felt like curling herself into a ball. There was so much to do and she almost didn't know where to start, but she couldn't let her duties as a Headmistress slide. Is this how her Grandfather felt, all those years trying to protect Harry Potter and run a school? He must've felt like the entire world rested on his shoulders. She could taste only half of that pressure, and she was sure that she wouldn't be able to handle anymore. She would kill Azurea. Kill her, or die trying.

The next few weeks passed by in a blur. Looking back on her calender, Naima noticed that she'd missed her birthday. She laughed at herself and then struck a line through the middle of the day. She was losing herself.

The day after her confrontation with Zabini, she announced that the majority was in favor of robe changes. She set up the ballots with the students and found that the majority ruled for Green, Red, Bronze, and Blue robes, which she found interesting. Everyday, now, she would sit down for a meeting with Zabini, and she was informed that the Ministries did not want anyone else knowing about her predicament. Said that the high profile case received top-secret status after a decendant of Dumbledore got involved.

The two never mentioned what happened that day in the classroom-- they just didn't seem to have the time. Zabini was always busy between classes and really scrambling with the ministries and research, now that he had a tangible witness, and she was always swamped with her renovation projects.

The Halloween Feast and party was tonight, and she was already a little tired. Thankfully, she almost never found herself overstressed because of a thinning potion. She was now receiving extremely well-made potions from Zabini who would only tell her that a 'very close and personal friend' of his was making it for her. He promised that it was all very hush-hush and that she shouldn't worry about her secret being spilled.

Before the Halloween Feast, Naima was sitting at her desk, going over some papers when there was a soft knock at the door. "Enter." When she looked up from her papers, she noticed that Zabini was wearing one of the largest smiles she'd ever seen on his face.

"What are you so pleased about?" She asked as she looked back down at her charts and graphs. The accountants were being very cheap with funding for the projects, but she wouldn't stop until there was proper heat in the castle.

"Aren't you going to the feast?" he asked, completely ignoring her question.

"Yes, but I'm afraid to say that I won't be staying at the after-party for very long. I have far too much work to do and I need to get up early tomorrow morning." Zabini frowned and shook his head.

"You're ridiculous." He said as he quickly snatched her papers out of her hand.

"Zabini! You may be an Auror, but in my castle I am _your _boss. Give those back, and get out of my office if you're going to act like a child."

"Feisty." He muttered with a smirk. "Just what will you do to me if I don't give these back? Fire me?"

"Oh…" She said, whipping out her wand before he could. "I could do so much more than that." Some of the paintings gasped at her actions.

"Don't worry," he shouted up to them, smiling. "She's only joking. Isn't that right, cara mia?"

"How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that!" There was a knock on the door. Before she could tell them to come in, Zabini leaned in to whisper to her urgently.

"Play along."

"Come--" she was cut off as he suddenly kissed her on the mouth, pinning her there as he held the back of her head with his hand. When he pulled away, he had a serious look on his face that let her know that this was business.

"I do hope that I am not interrupting anything." It was a young man, about their age that walked in. Leaning over on a silver cane, he seemed very tired, despite his age.

"Of course not, sir."

"I was just coming to meet the new Headmistress of Hogwarts."

"I'm sorry, and you are?" Naima raised her hand for him to shake. Instead of doing what she expected, he turned her hand over and kissed it.

"Do forgive my rudeness, barging in here, unannounced. Your Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor was to let you know that I was coming today. I am Neville Longbottom, an old friend."

"Ah, hello, Mr. Longbottom. I would offer you some tea or candy, but it's very close to dinner. Would you care to join us?"

"No, no." he shook his head. "I only wanted to have a small chat with you."

"Really?" She was going to sit behind her desk, but Zabini put some pressure on her shoulder. When she looked up at him, he stared ahead at the old man, smiling like a fool in love.

"So, how long have you two been seeing each other?"

"I beg you pardon?"

"Well, I read in the Prophet that you only just moved back from America."

"Oh… yes. Not very long. He would visit me in America every now and then."

"Is that so?"

"Yes." She smiled.

"Ah, he always _did_ mention that he was going off to meet some girl. Gave me a different name every time."

"That's Z--Zee for you." She'd almost slipped and called him Zabini.

"Zee?" His eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

"It's my little pet name for Blaise. He hates it." She looked up at him and smiled. This was so hard for her. She'd never been in a relationship before. She didn't know how to act all lovey-dovey.

"Well, it seems like you two are very much in love."

"Yes well, love is very hard to find." Zabini grinned and then gave her a slight peck on the cheek. It was hard not to tense at that. They still hadn't addressed the classroom incident.

"I must say-- you certainly don't seem to be his usual type."

"Trust me Mr. Longbottom. Arrogant usually isn't my type either-- but he makes up for it in other ways. Isn't that right, honey?"

"Well, I must say, you two make a fine couple, one way or the other." He stood and moved to leave.

"Would you like for me to see you out, old boy?" Zabini called to him.

"No, I'm quite alright. You just stay here with your girlfriend until the feast begins." he shook his head and left.

When the door closed behind him, Naima dropped the fake smile and pinned him with a glare. "What the hell was that all about?" Naima crossed her arms over her chest.

"Neville Longbottom is an informant for the Italian Aurors."

"A spy?"

"Yes… and that in itself is a double-edged sword, cara. If anyone were to get wind of our case, you would certainly be targeted- not by just whoever's behind the kidnappings, but people who would capture you and turn you over to whoever would pay the highest ransom."

"What would Longbottom have to do with that, and why did I have to pretend to be your girlfriend?"

"Well, Neville is a very trustworthy fellow-- a good friend of Harry Potter's as well. I think he could make a few key players in England move if we asked nicely."

"And the whole girlfriend thing?"

"Oh, that was just to get a few kisses out of you without having to hear you mope and groan."

"Why you little!" Naima made to grab him, but he quickly anticipated this. He grabbed her by the wrists and pulled her into him.

"Now…if I remember correctly, we have some unfinished business." Naima was slightly shocked. She didn't expect for him to jump into this so soon after he'd discovered her little secret.

"Zabini," she sighed.

"I like the way you said that. It might sound a bit better if you actually used my real name."

"And Zabini isn't your real name?"

"Here I am, trying to sweep you off your feet, and you're trying to match wits with me." Naima was about to open her mouth to retort, but he silenced her with a kiss.

Okay… that was the end of my two part, happy-new year special. I hope you guys enjoyed it. I really am sorry that I've been much busier than I first thought and couldn't get the chapters out sooner. It was actually extremely hard for me to figure out how Zabini was going to find out her secret and where I was going to take it from there. Now that I have a direction, I'll say that the chapters should be coming much sooner than before. I've already started the next one. So, if you read, please review! I want to know how you guys took this turn of events!

Note: I've made a few changes to it because it had spelling errors galore. I made a mistake by posting it before I read it, but I posted it up with chapters from three other stories, so…sorry for the mixup.

Ciao


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